Chasing Phoenix
by hypergolic
Summary: A chance encounter at a cafe changes Horatio's world, and makes his latest investigation personal. HoratioOFC. Final chapter posted this is now a completed fic!
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** _Chasing Phoenix._

**Pairing:** _Horatio/OFC_

**Rating:** _T_

**Spoilers:** _A couple of spoilers from Season 5 episode 1 (Rio) + spoilers from previous seasons here and there._

**Summary:** _A chance meeting at a café changes Horatio's world, and makes his latest investigation personal.(I suck at summaries-sorry)_

**Standard pre-fanfic spiel:** _CSI: Miami and all related characters remain the property of CBS, I am making no money from this fanfic etc…_

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Horatio lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip of the steaming hot coffee within. He replaced the cup on the table and leaned back in his seat, stretching his long legs out under that table in front of him. These few hours first thing in the morning were the only time of day that he could comfortably sit out in the sun and he planned to enjoy it for as long as possible, but even this early in the morning he could feel the rays starting to make his skin tingle. Of course he always wore sunscreen anyway, he was a long-time Miami resident and used to the precautions needed to deal with the climate, whether it was having shutters ready for the hurricane season or carrying a bottle of sunscreen in the car. Everyone wore sunscreen here, but with his fair complexion even with the highest spf factor he could find liberally applied he rarely spent more time than was absolutely necessary out in the full glare of the sun, fearful that spending any extra time outside would leave him with the complexion of a lobster for days afterwards. The early mornings were different though, for an hour or so, he could allow himself to relax out in the open before the fiery orb began to blast the earth with its full force.

Horatio loved this café. Set on the waterfront; _'Sensación'_ carefully arranged its seats on the outdoor paved area, which on one side looked out over the turquoise waters of the bay, and to another side overlooked a busy pedestrian-only area of the city. Most of the cafés and restaurants in the area had an outdoor seating area; this was Miami after all, who wanted to sit inside, hiding from the sun? But from this particular vantage point he enjoyed the fact that he could sit and watch as the world went about its business. A consummate people-watcher; Horatio enjoyed observing people as they shopped, worked, holidayed and just generally lived their lives. Not to mention that this place made the best pancakes in the whole of Miami. This was often his first stop on his rare days off, a cup of coffee, a plate of pancakes and the morning paper, there was no better way to leave all the horrors of work behind him for the day. The serving staff had gotten used to seeing him appear early in the morning every now and again, and always greeted him like an old friend. At first it had been a bit of a joke between the staff when he'd started turning up, always the same table, the one that gave the best view of both the sea vista and the shopping area below, always the same order, black coffee and pancakes. There were a few humorous remarks made back in the kitchen, a few nicknames used to identify him, but the staff instantly gained a high level of respect for the quiet stranger when he had placed himself between one of their own and the business end of a handgun.

_It was true that Sandy had never made the best choices when it came to men. She was one of those women who had always been drawn to the bad-boy vibe, if he had cute eyes and a sense of danger Sandy's knees would go weak. Unfortunately her latest flame, Pete, hadn't been so much a little dangerous as clinically insane, and from the events that followed their break-up; he apparently wasn't too keen on rejection either. He'd turned up at the café the day after she'd finished with him; brandishing a handgun, threatening to put a bullet through her head. For Sandy, the minutes following the threat had moved in extreme slow-motion, events that must've taken only seconds to transpire took hours in her head, her attention focused on the muzzle pointing in her direction. She knew he was yelling at her, she could see his mouth moving, see every tiny droplet of spittle as it flew from his lips, but she couldn't make out the words, it was as if she had cotton wool in her ears, muffling the sound until it became an incomprehensible blur. Then, she saw a figure move to her left and the red-haired customer deftly moved in front of her, his own gun raised pointing directly at her would-be assailant. Standing so close to her rescuer she could feel the vibrations that came from the deep rumble of his voice. After that, she saw the scene as snapshots, as if someone had turned on a strobe-light in her head. Uncertainty in the eyes of her attacker, uncertainty that rapidly progressed to fear as her white knight issued a warning. She saw Pete's hold loosen on the grip of the weapon, and eventually saw the handgun pivot around, his finger still in the trigger-guard. Her rescuer gently extended his hand to take the relinquished gun, laying it down on a nearby table before turning his attention back to the man in front of him, cuffing his hands behind his back. Sandy was speechless, the thumping of her heart echoing in her mind. She wanted to throw her arms around this man, to thank him for saving her life, but her feet were rooted firmly to the ground, her mouth flapping silently open and closed. When he turned to look at her he simply smiled and inclined his head, understanding her wishes perfectly, as if he had read her mind._

From that day on Lieutenant Horatio Caine had always been a welcomed guest at the Sensación Café. They would always find a seat for him, no matter how busy they were.

"Um, excuse me, Sir?"

The request was made in a soft and apologetic tone that drew Horatio instantly out of his thoughts. He looked up from the newspaper pages he had been perusing and peered over the top of his sunglasses. For a second he was incapable of stringing a coherent sentence together as he found himself looking into the deepest green eyes he had ever seen, the sun glinted off the moist surface giving the illusion of two perfectly cut emeralds nestling in the whites of her eyes. Aware that he hadn't spoken for a few seconds he forced his vocal chords to comply.

"How can I help Ma'am?" Horatio raised himself out of his seat a little.

"Oh, please, don't get up. I'm sorry to bother you, but would you mind if I sat here?" The newcomer motioned towards the vacant seat at Horatio's table. "It's just that all the others are taken." She extended her arm in the general direction of the other tables and, glancing around the sun-baked patio seating area, Horatio saw that the other seats were indeed occupied.

"Sure, no problem." He smiled warmly, and was pleased when she smiled in return.

"Thanks." She slid herself into the seat.

Horatio pushed his shades up in front of his eyes again, in the pretence of continuing to read his paper, but in fact continued to observe the woman's movements as she sat opposite him. The light coloured combat pants and figure hugging white vest perfectly accentuated her athletic build, and her honey-blonde hair flowed in waves down her back, catching and reflecting the sun. He watched as she signalled to one of the waiters, and listened as she placed an order for coffee and French toast. The accent was definitely New York, but he concentrated harder to narrow it down to a borough, it tugged at his heart a little to realise that it was so long since he'd lived there that he was losing the ability to instantaneously identify the little tells and colloquialisms that made it possible to differentiate between the different city areas. A few more words as she completed her order gave him the answer, Brooklyn, although he suspected she worked somewhere in Manhattan because of the emphasis she placed on some of her words.

As the waiter retreated to relay the order back to the kitchen, Horatio gave up all pretence of reading the paper. Leaning back in his chair, he pulled off his sunglasses and folded the arms back, placing them on the table, on top of the newspaper.

"Are you visiting?"

It took a few seconds before the young woman responded as she looked around checking if he was talking to her. An action which made Horatio suppress a chuckle. When she had ascertained that there was no-one else within earshot and that the handsome red-haired stranger sitting opposite her must be addressing her she looked up and answered his question.

"Um, yes, kind of. Is it really that obvious? Do I just have 'tourist' stamped on my forehead?"

He laughed.

"No, you fit in very well, but the book's a dead giveaway." He motioned towards the book that she had pulled out of her bag as soon as the waiter had left. It was one of those tourist guides that extolled the virtues of each city, giving the visitor the inside track on the best places to eat, stay and party.

She laughed, and her face coloured a little with embarrassment. "I guess it is a pretty good hint. Actually I'm thinking of moving down here. I'm renting an apartment for a few weeks just to see what the city's like, doing a little reconnaissance I guess."

Horatio decided to see if his hunches had been right. "Would you mind if I took a guess at something?"

"Sure."

"You live in Brooklyn and work in Manhattan, right?"

"How d'you…what…how…" Her mouth opened and closed in surprise. Although she didn't get a chance to ask her question as at that moment the waiter reappeared and set her order in front of her.

"You want a refill too Lieutenant?" The waiter turned and asked Horatio before he left.

"Sure, thanks Drew." Horatio addressed the waiter by name, and within seconds his cup had been topped up with a renewed supply of steaming hot coffee.

"Lieutenant?"

"Sorry, I should have introduced myself. Lieutenant Horatio Caine, Miami Dade Crime Lab."

"But that still doesn't explain how you knew…"

"I used to live up there. To be honest I was checking to see if I still knew the accents. Sorry if I freaked you out a little."

He watched as she visibly relaxed, reassured that he wasn't a stalker.

"A real life Henry Higgins huh? In that case, it's nice to meet you Lieutenant. I'm Grace Turner." She extended her hand across the table that separated them, and Horatio mirrored her action, taking her hand in his and giving it a friendly shake.

She lifted her fork and dug into the French toast that was still sitting in front of her giving off an enticing aroma.

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_A/N – Henry Higgins is the character from George Bernard Shaw's 'Pygmalion' (or 'My Fair Lady') who can tell exactly where people come from, to within a few streets, just by listening to them speak. _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N – There are a couple of spoilers in this chapter for the end of season 4 + beginning of season 5._

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"So why Miami?"

"Hmm?"

Horatio grinned. "Why are you thinking of moving to Miami?"

"Oh, right. Well, I just got a job offer down here. I'm a photographer, I just got a contract to work with one of Miami's fashion houses. Besides, my little sister lives down here…at least I think she does." The pause and the uncertainty in Grace's voice as she spoke that last phrase piqued Horatio's interest.

"You think?"

"Well, I…" She paused, wondering if she should really be revealing her life story to someone she had met within the last few minutes. "Are you really with the MDPD?"

"Yep." Horatio reached down and unclipped the gold badge that remained attached to his belt, whether he was on or off duty, sliding it lightly over the table so that it came to rest beside Grace's plate.

She picked it up, running her fingers over the raised lettering and decoration as she came to a conclusion in her mind. She sighed deeply, as if trying to force all the breath from her body and decided to trust this stranger with the badge.

"Sarah was a little bit wild when we were growing up. I was always the straight A student, everyone expected her to be just like me, I guess she just rebelled, got into not-so-nice guys and the even worse drugs, y'know. Anyhow, soon as she could she bolted down here to do the whole modelling thing. She was always real pretty." Grace's eyes had taken on a faraway sheen, like she was dredging up memories that she had long since tried to forget. Shaking her head she managed to halt her progress into a personal flashback and continue "She still sends me Christmas and birthday cards, postmark always says Miami, so I thought…two birds, one stone, right?" She shrugged her shoulders.

Horatio was silent for a minute or two, considering the situation. As he leant back in his chair he raised his hand, leaning his elbow on the table, his forefinger and thumb pulling at his bottom lip.

Horatio knew all too well the importance of family. His life had been, to put it bluntly a series of missed opportunities. He had learned early in life to live without his parents, and had shouldered the responsibility of looking after his younger brother, when Horatio had been notified of Ray's death following a failed narcotics bust his whole world had dropped out from under him. Alone and isolated from the world around him Horatio had thrown himself into his work like never before, determined that he would save at least a few people from experiencing the pain and suffering that he had already felt. When his work had led him to believe that Ray was not dead as he had previously believed, there was a euphoria that enveloped his soul with the possibility that he might be able to make up for lost time and get to know his little brother again. Fate had a different path in mind, after spending only an hour in Ray's company Horatio watched his brother fly away to start a new life, alongside a woman Horatio had loved but had never built up enough confidence to reveal his true feelings to, another opportunity missed, another sharp stab of regret. The next time he had seen Raymond was as his life quickly ebbed away, his blood mingling with the dust and dirt on the ground of one of Rio's favelas. There would be no more chances to speak to Ray, to tell him that he loved him. That was the thought that woke him in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, his heart beating hard and his arms stretched out in front of him as if trying to hold onto the spirit of his brother, trying to pull him back from beyond the veil of death.

Now, he was faced with a young woman who he could see in her heart desperately wanted to be reunited with her sister. He had the chance to enable someone else to grasp the opportunities he had allowed to slip through his fingers. It took him less than a second to decide to help the beautiful stranger.

"Ok, listen, if you give me her details I'll see if I can run a search through the PD databases, see if she shows up anywhere in the last couple of years. It's gotta be better than just asking around at fashion shoots. You do know that Miami is one of the modelling capitals of the world right?"

"Yeah, I know, but I was willing to try anything. You can do that? I mean the database search thing?"

"Well not officially, but I know what it's like to lose someone you love."

Grace stopped with a forkful of food halfway to her mouth and allowed the fork to drop back down to the plate. She studied the Lieutenant's face and saw the truth of pain and loss etched into his features. She realised that she had taken a risk in opening her soul, albeit only a little, to a stranger today and in return he had shown her some of his own vulnerability.

"I have to warn you though, Grace. A lot of people come here to change, to reinvent a new life for themselves, it's possible that she doesn't want to be found. You understand?"

"I know, but I figure I've got to try, right? I guess y'never know, if she pushes me away then at least I'll know I gave it my best shot."

Horatio nodded. "Ok, I'm back in the lab tomorrow, if you give me the details I'll take a look." He smiled and fell into a calm silence, sitting back in his seat he allowed himself to maintain eye contact. The gratitude radiated from the woman in front of him, and Horatio made a decision to take a chance.

"Do you have plans for the rest of the day?" He asked hopefully.

"I, erm…" Grace pondered the question, took a few seconds to regard the man in front of her, and decided to take a chance. "No, I don't." She smiled.

"Well, I'd love to show you around the city. If you'd like." He added the last phrase quickly and crossed his fingers surreptitiously under the table.

"Are you always this nice to everyone? What's in it for you Lieutenant?"

_I'm nice to everyone, except criminals and IAB,_ Horatio muttered under his breath. Out loud he said, "What's in it for me? Well, I get to act like a tourist for the day, to go and do all the things that we residents never get to."

"So you get to act like a tourist, and I get the inside information about living in Miami, from one of Miami's finest no less." She paused, placing one finger to her chin and looking upwards pretending to think hard about the proposition. "Hmm, I don't know." She brought her eyes down to meet Horatio's, and again he was struck with their emerald clarity. She bought her finger from her chin to point at Horatio and allowed her face to break out in a wide grin, "Lieutenant, you got yourself a deal. So where do we start?"

"Well first of all please call me Horatio, and second, where to start in Miami? It's gotta be South Beach."

It didn't take Horatio long to deal with the bill, insisting on paying for Grace's breakfast along with his own. Grace had fixed him with a stern look,

"Fine, but if you're paying for breakfast, I'm definitely buying lunch."

Horatio had held his hands up in mock surrender. "No argument from me, there's a great little Cuban restaurant down on Calle Ocho we could try for lunch, how about it? You like Cuban food?"

"I don't know. I've never really tried any. But when in Miami, right?"

"That is a very wise attitude. You'll love the food, I promise."

He led her away from the café, towards the nearby parking lot, all the time in deep conversation about places that were an immediate must-see and only slightly less stunning attractions that could be left until later in her visit. They were so deep in conversation that Horatio nearly walked straight past the Hummer, and had to halt rather abruptly nearly leading Grace to walk right into him. He pushed a button on his key-chain and the lights flashed once and the vehicle gave a short beep to indicate that the doors were unlocked. He walked around to the passenger side and held the door open for Grace to climb in, but she just stood staring, mouth open.

"I get to ride around in a police department Hummer?" She took a quick glance at the crime lab's insignia emblazoned on the side of the vehicle. "Horatio, this just gets better and better. I love Miami." She climbed in and settled herself in the passenger seat, and Horatio carefully closed the door behind her before walking around to the drivers side and climbing in himself.

As he pushed the key into the ignition Grace leaned over to him.

"Erm, Horatio?"

"Yep?"

"Does this thing have a siren?"

He could see where this was going.

"Yep."

She shot a mischievous glance in his direction. Transformed in that instant into a cheeky teenager.

"Could we…?" She left the question unfinished, but Horatio understood her meaning perfectly. He had long lost the excitement of tearing through the streets with the sirens blaring and lights flashing, but often encountered others who still found this experience thrilling, and when he did Horatio often allowed them to flick the switch that brought the Hummer's police-issue extras to life, and delighted in the joy that appeared on their faces.

"We'll see."

"I love Miami." She reiterated.

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Horatio inserted his key into the lock of his condo door and pushed it open. Once inside he turned and slid the dead-bolt into place, threw his keys onto the little table that stood beside the door and kicked off his shoes. He padded softly across the smooth wooden floors and pulled open the glass doors that led onto the balcony, allowing the sounds of the Miami evening wash over the room. He could hear the lively beat of Cuban music drifting up from one of the cars parked on the seafront below. Someone in one of the condos beneath his own was singing a delicate melody, while someone in an apartment nearby laughed at an unheard joke. So many someones, Horatio thought, each adding their own particular harmony to the sound of the city. And if he listened carefully he could pick out the continuous swish and crash of the waves invading the shoreline; providing Miami's soundtrack with an unwavering percussion line. He slumped back into one of the chairs that sat on the balcony and hooked his feet up onto the other chair sitting opposite, crossed his ankles and lay back, fingers intertwined; resting his hands across his chest as he relaxed. He gave an exhausted, but contented sigh. As he closed his eyes briefly images flashed across his retinas, still images that formed a record of the days activities.

Horatio had shared some of his favourite haunts with her, the best places to eat, to shop and to relax, although somewhat embarrassingly he'd had to admit that his knowledge on the latter subject was a little limited in that he worked such long hours that the only relaxation he regularly encountered was falling into bed in the early hours of the morning to catch a couple of hours sleep before his next shift started. In return for his hints and tips about living in Miami, Grace had allowed herself to be dragged to a couple of touristy attractions, which in truth she had thoroughly enjoyed. The pair had even taken a short rickshaw ride through Coconut Grove. It was a pity, Horatio thought, that residents rarely visited the big tourist attractions that the city had to offer, but he considered that it was the same wherever you lived, you took the local architecture for granted, walking around without truly seeing the beauty that surrounded you. He considered Grace's awed reaction to the Art Deco district with its pastel shaded buildings and unique structures. He'd driven past them on a regular basis, he'd been to some of the clubs that littered Ocean Drive, heck, he'd worked on crime scenes there, and yet it had never really occurred to him to just look around him and appreciate the place for what it was.

He couldn't remember when he'd last enjoyed himself so much, Grace had the same sense of humour as he did, the same dry, almost acerbic, wit, and at times he'd stopped trying to hold himself back and had allowed himself to laugh so hard that he had been genuinely convinced that one of his ribs would break through the pressure. Grace had coaxed him into feeling safe, and he had allowed his guard to drop for the first time in a long while. She had broken past the wall he'd built around himself, the wall of professional courtesy and restrained emotions that kept his true personality hidden from all but those closest to him. The problem was, now that she had passed his defences he wanted more, he had tasted her personality and the innate investigator in him wanted to explore the complex facets of her persona.

_Maybe, just maybe…_ he left the thought hanging, afraid that to consider the possibility would be to condemn it to failure.


	3. Chapter 3

_Little Horatio – I'm glad you're enjoying it – I'll try to update every day providing I get chance!_

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Horatio awoke early the next morning to the sound of his cell phone emitting its ring-tone at what seemed to be an unnecessarily loud volume. He shook his head in an attempt to remove the vestiges of sleep that were still fogging his brain and cleared his throat, endeavouring to sound vaguely human when he answered the phone. Grabbing the offending article he flipped open the phone's cover and pulled it under the bed sheet to meet his ear.

"Caine."

The cheery voice on the other end of the connection made him groan a little.

"Calleigh, I swear it should be illegal to be that chirpy at…" he flipped the covers off his head so he could glance at the glowing display of the clock that sat beside the bed, "…half past three in the morning."

"What can I say, I'm a morning person."

"Actually does three-thirty even qualify as morning?"

"Hmm…good point. Well, morning or not we've got a call out to a floater at Bayfront Park. Night-shift are still up to their necks dealing with a multiple homicide, looks gang-related. So we get to take a look at how our squidgy, waterlogged friend ended his days. Security guard found him on one of his routine patrols, he called the police and notified the park manager who is particularly distressed as some of Miami's more affluent residents were due to meet at the Challenger Memorial first thing in the morning and the smell is apparently very off-putting." She spoke with a sarcastic tone to her voice.

"How inconsiderate of a body to wash up and spoil their day, you'd think people would learn to decay in less obtrusive places. Ok Calleigh, I'm on my way." He heard her chuckle as he snapped the phone shut, ending the call.

Horatio forced himself out of bed and made a slight detour into the kitchen to flick on the power switch to the coffee machine before heading into the bathroom to stand under a powerful jet of steaming hot water. The effect of the scalding water was remarkable and he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later feeling invigorated and much more human than he had when he'd gone in. From there it only took him a couple of minutes to pull on some clothes, one of the skills you picked up when you worked with law enforcement was always to have an 'emergency suit' ready for sudden callouts like this one. The emergency suit was a set of clothes that was washed and pressed and put together so they could be pulled on without wasting precious minutes scrabbling around finding a pair of pants, shoes and a shirt that actually looked alright together. This was Miami after all, fashion mattered. And in a profession where minutes could mean the difference between life and death, any time-saving method was a useful one. Horatio headed through to the kitchen where the pot of freshly brewed coffee was sending out an enticing aroma into the air. He quickly dumped the contents of the pot into a thermos mug, flicked the power switch to the coffee machine off and turned towards the door. He grabbed his keys from the table and pulled the door shut as he exited. Checking his watch, three-forty, he nodded satisfied that the whole process from being woken up to going out of the door had only taken ten minutes.

There wasn't much traffic to contend with on the roads at this time in the morning, a few taxis whizzed in the opposite direction probably ferrying a few semi-die-hard party-goers home after an evening of fun, although Horatio knew that the serious partiers would have found their ways to the few clubs that would remain open right through until seven or eight am, Miami really was a city that never slept. When Horatio pulled the Hummer into one of the parking spaces in front of Bayfront Park he took a look around at the county vehicles already present at the scene. In the space next to his own was another grey Hummvee also bearing the crime lab's insignia, beyond that sat a marked patrol car and the last space was occupied by the coroner's van. Horatio took a final swig from the his mug and drained the last remnants of the coffee before replacing the mug back into the holder on the dashboard, shutting the drivers door and pushing the button on his keychain that engaged the central locking system.

It didn't take him long to locate the crime scene, as he approached Horatio saw the movement of flashlight beams and identified the members of his team combing the area for any evidence that may prove pertinent to the investigation. Near to the waterline he could see a hunched figure who he assumed was Alexx Woods, Miami-Dade's finest coroner. Nearing the scene the flashlights headed in his direction and the members of his team appeared out of the pre-dawn murk. It was Eric that reached him first.

"Hey H."

"What've we got Eric?"

"Security guard found the body floating in the water just over an hour ago. They've had some problems with vandals around the park over the past few weeks so the city's bought in a private firm to handle the security of the site, guard has to complete a set patrol throughout the night. We've been over the area, there's no sign of a disturbance, looks like the body could've just drifted in with the tide."

Horatio nodded to acknowledge the CSI's input.

"Well hey there." Horatio smiled as he heard Calleigh's cheery Southern tones. Ryan approached behind her, giving Horatio a wave. Horatio inclined his head in greeting and paused as he saw Ryan, there was something not quite right about the young CSI, and he watched him for a second, he was a little jittery, fidgeting with the flashlight in his hands and unable to stand still, his eyes leaping from one focal point to the next, never really settling on one thing long enough to properly see it. Horatio decided not to make a big thing out of it.

"You two find anything on your sweep of the scene?"

"Nope."

"Nothing at all. Clean as, um, as a… erm…something that's very clean." Horatio heard Calleigh snigger quietly at Ryan's rambling response.

"Ok, so I guess we'll just have to wait for Alexx to finish her initial examination and then we can transport the body back to the lab and lift any trace off it, hopefully it'll give us a couple of leads. I'll see you all back at the lab." Horatio turned towards Calleigh. "Calleigh, can I have a quick word?"

"Sure."

Eric and Ryan picked up their kits and started their walk back towards the vehicles.

"Do I want to know why Mr Wolfe is twitchier than a rabbit on meth?" He asked, a wry smile creeping onto his face.

Calleigh grinned.

"Um, apparently Ryan isn't a morning person either. Before I got into the lab Eric had already given him four cups of Café Cubano, I was just in time to stop him drinking a fifth." She grinned. "I think he's on a pretty major caffeine high at the moment."

Horatio couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"Ok, I'm going to have a quick chat with Alexx about our mystery body, I'll see you back at the lab. Whatever you do don't let Eric give Ryan any more coffee or he'll be twitching for days."

"No problem." Her face broke into a wide grin as she turned to leave. "Later, H."

"Later."

Horatio stood alone in the gradually lightening, pre-sunrise atmosphere of dusk; watching Calleigh following the distant figures of Eric and Ryan who were walking back towards the second Hummer that Horatio had seen when he'd parked. He turned a hundred and eighty degrees to face the opposite direction looking instead towards where Alexx was still attending to her charge.

"Anything interesting Alexx?"

"It's always interesting sugar, and sometimes a little sad too." Her eyes roved over the body again before raising up to meet Horatio's. "Just take a look at this guy's clothes Horatio, they're all designer brands, and we're not talking knock-offs, these are the real deal."

Horatio took a closer look, recognising the brands off each of the items.

"Ouch, the price of that jacket alone is enough to kill him."

"Uh-huh, I can't even afford to daydream about these kinda clothes. Someone has got to be missing this boy Horatio."

"You got any ID on the body?"

"Nope, didn't find a wallet, but I'll get a ten card and run his prints when we get back to the lab."

"Any idea about a time of death?"

"Well, rigor's passed." She lifted one of the victim's arms to illustrate her point. "And there's a good degree of skin sloughing, initially the body sinks to the bottom, then the gases that are produced when the body's bacteria starts digesting itself causes the corpse to rise to the surface, that's probably when the current moved it from it's original dump site and bought it down here for us to find. I'd guesstimate he's been dead for four to five days, any longer and the marine life would have started to eat him up, releasing the gas and causing the body to sink again, but I'll have a more accurate TOD when I've completed the autopsy."

"Ok Alexx. I guess I'll see you and your new friend back at the lab then. You need a hand with moving the body?"

"Nah, that's what I brought ma' boys along for." Alexx pursed her lips and gave a piercing whistle, which summoned two men, both dressed in overalls bearing the city crest on their chests, who had been standing a few meters away instantly to her side. "Ok guys let's give our John Doe here a lift back to the lab, but first…" Alexx withdrew a thin metal tube with a sharp point at one end and a valve at the other from her M.E.s kit, "Honey, I wouldn't stand there if I were you." She glanced in Horatio's direction as she spoke, and the CSI supervisor took a few steps to the side. With a short, sharp jab Alexx thrust the medical instrument through the tough layer of flesh and instantly a squirt of foul smelling liquid erupted from the newly created hole in the victim's gut, landing with a satisfying splat on the grass where Horatio had been standing a few moments before. It was a testament to just how many gruesome scenes the crime lab had dealt with that not one of the small group flinched or cringed.

"Just had the van cleaned Alexx?" Horatio asked with a smirk on his face.

"Uh-huh. And Mr squidgy here is not going to cover it in primordial soup the first time we go over a speed bump." She turned to the two county body haulers, "Ok guys, he's all yours."


	4. Chapter 4

Back in the lab Horatio encountered a slightly more relaxed looking Ryan Wolfe in the break room, the young CSI took a sip from the steaming mug in front of him and grimaced.

"Everything ok Mr Wolfe?" Horatio enquired as he poured himself a mug of coffee from the pot.

"Yeah, fine thanks H."

"I hope that's not more Café Cubano." Horatio indicated towards the mug clutched in Ryan's hands.

"You heard about that huh?" Ryan blushed in embarrassment, "Um no, Calleigh's banned me from drinking anything with caffeine in it for the rest of today, she's made me this caffeine-free herbal tea." He grimaced again.

"Ah." Horatio understood the reason for the grimace, he'd been on the receiving end of one of Calleigh's herbal tea blends before, and knew that they tasted foul. He gave Ryan a sympathetic look and patted him lightly on the shoulder before heading out of the break room and up to his office.

Safely ensconced in his office, Horatio started up his computer and logged on to the various software programmes the department ran. Then he pulled the scrap of paper that Grace had given him with her sister's details on it from his inside jacket pocket, trying to straighten out the creases and unfolding the dog-eared corners until the text was legible. Pulling up a person search box he entered the details into the relevant fields and waited to see if his search would find a match. It took less than a minute for the computer to beep, signalling a corresponding entry and Horatio sat forward in his seat eager to see what information the system held. There were a few hits for the name Sarah Turner, but only one with the correct date and place of birth he was searching for. The expanded record brought up a mug shot of the individual, piercings littered her ears, nose and one of her eyebrows, and the heavy, smoky coloured make-up gave her dark eyes a sinister look. But looking beyond the trappings of her lifestyle Horatio could see what Grace had described, just a pretty girl rebelling against unrealistic expectations. It was all there in her eyes, clear as day. Her expression might suggest a street-wise smart-ass, loving the wild and unbridled life that the Miami undercurrent allowed her to live, but the expression didn't reach her eyes, couldn't hide the pain and sadness of a child alone in the world. Horatio scrolled down to the bottom of the record where the list of criminal charges the subject had been convicted of was displayed. Scanning the charges he saw that a couple of the entries on Sarah's list of charges were typical of many young Miamians. Charged with possession of an illegal substance not long after she had arrived in the city, one count of soliciting, a petty theft charge and the assault of a police officer. _Feisty,_ Horatio thought. The last charge had earned Sarah a brief stay in one of Miami's lighter security prison facilities, the name and contact details of her parole officer were listed underneath. Horatio jotted the name and telephone number down on a scrap of paper and closed the database programme.

He punched the number into his cell phone and pressed the send button to connect the call, the tone rang out for some time, just as Horatio was about to give up and disconnect the tone was cut off and a gruff female voice responded from the other end of the line.

"Yeah. Todd."

"Is that Diane Todd?"

"Well honey, that depends who's askin'. If you're tryin' to sell me somethin' then you got the wrong number. If you're gonna tell me I just won the lottery then I'll be whoever the hell you want me to be."

Horatio suppressed a chuckle.

"Sorry, I guess I should've introduced myself first. Lieutenant Horatio Caine, MDPD."

"Nice to speak to you Lieutenant, and how can I be of help to Miami's finest?"

"Well, I'm trying to locate one of your parolees Ma'am, a Sarah Turner. Do you have a current home or work address for her?"

"Turner? Nice kid, never expected her to be a re-offender. Ah well, I guess you can never tell, it's always the quiet ones huh?" Horatio could hear her flicking through files as she spoke. "Ah here it is, Sarah Turner, I got a home and work address for her, but it'd probably be easier for ya to catch her at work, strip club called 'Flames' down on Miami Beach, goes by the stage name Phoenix."

"Thank-you Ma'am. That's a great help." Horatio scribbled the details on a piece of paper as he spoke.

"No problem Lieutenant. You sure you didn't call to tell me I'd won the lottery?"

"Sorry Ma'am, no such luck."

"Ah well, one of these days honey. Y'all just call me if ya need anything else." She chuckled and put the receiver down, terminating the call.

Horatio tucked the information about Sarah's whereabouts in his jacket pocket. He took a quick glance at the clock, making the decision to go and see if Alexx had any more information about their floater they'd picked up from Bayfront Park.

Horatio pushed his way into the morgue, a part of the building that a majority of MDPD officers affectionately referred to as 'the pit', partly because of its location in the very bowels of the crime lab, and partly because most of Miami's vicious criminals would eventually end up on a slab down there, and their souls were going to burn in hell. He smelt the body before he saw it, a few steps into the room he could smell the odour of decomposing tissue, and without consciously thinking about it started to breathe through his mouth rather than his nose. As Horatio turned to locate the source of the smell he saw Alexx bent over a body laid out on one of the stainless steel tables, her arm working busily back and forth as she sewed up the Y-incision.

"I'll be with you in just a second Horatio."

Horatio wondered exactly how Alexx knew he was there. She stood with her back to him and he was fairly certain that he hadn't made a sound as he'd walked into the room.

"How…"

"Honey, I work in a room full of dead people all day. I notice when a live one walks in." Alexx replied, apparently reading minds was another of her many skills.

_Fair comment,_ he thought, and shrugged.

"Ok, you have my full attention." Alexx snipped off the excess suture and turned to face Horatio.

"You got any news on the floater from Bayfront Park?"

"Yep, I just finished the autopsy." She waved her hand in the direction of the corpse she had been sewing up as Horatio had entered. "I was pretty close with the TOD, vic's been in the water for 5 days. Eric and Ryan have the vic's clothes to process. I sent the guy's fingerprints up for Calleigh to run through AFIS, they come back to a Samuel Jarman, he's got a few citations on file for being drunk and disorderly."

"Any idea on cause of death?"

"Well I can tell you he didn't drown, if that's what you're wondering. There was no water in his lungs, which means…"

"He was already dead before someone dumped him in the water." Horatio finished her sentence for her.

"Yep. There's a few anti-mortem bruises on the body most sustained quite some time before death, but nothing serious, nothing that could be fatal. Looks like his heart just stopped beating, but there's no signs of heart related illnesses, if I had to take a guess I'd say it was an OD, but I'll wait for tox to confirm that, I'm waiting on the results from samples I've sent up. And there's something else you should take a look at."

"Oh?"

Alexx picked up a UV light from the table behind her and switched it on, she handed Horatio a pair of tinted glasses and motioned for him to turn of the main overhead light.

"I was looking for any biologicals, and I found this…" She moved the light so that its beam fell on the back of the victim's hand. In the delicate beam from the UV light a symbol suddenly became visible that hadn't appeared to be there before.

"I've seen that before. It's a UV stamp from one of the clubs on Collins, called 'Noir'. They're big on strobe lighting effects. I investigated the suspicious circumstances surrounding a death there a month ago."

"I remember, one of the bouncers got a little over-enthusiastic ejecting a patron from the club, hit him hard, it was a close call between accident and homicide."

"Hmm, there seems to be some odd things going on there, I think I need to go and pay our friends at Noir a visit." He mused as he pulled the glasses of and flicked the main light back on. "Thanks for the heads up Alexx."

"No problem sugar."

Horatio flipped open his cell phone and speed dialled Calleigh's number on his way from the morgue.

"Calleigh, Horatio. Roadtrip."


	5. Chapter 5

The Noir Nightclub was a ramshackle kind of building, it had clearly been one of Miami's hot-spots during it's heyday, but now the extravagant exterior was crumbling and the whole place looked like it could do with a coat of paint. Realistically the lifespan of a club in Miami, one of the world's premier clubbing cities, was incredibly short, with a spot as number one on the list of places to be seen lasting only as long as it took for someone to concoct a new gimmick, and the club's 'most dedicated' followers changing their fickle allegiances to a new attraction in an instant. Noir had seemingly tried and failed to cling onto it's clientele, and had now developed into the kind of club that people went only when they had been denied access to all the other clubs in the vicinity.

Horatio presented the picture of Samuel Jarman's body to the paunchy club owner, who recoiled with disgust from the sight of the blue-tinged, grotesquely bloated face.

"Nah man, I never seen him."

"Well he was in here before he died, he's got the club's stamp on his hand. So perhaps you might want to rethink that answer." It was Calleigh that responded to the owner's denial. Her chirpy, friendly voice notably absent. Right now was all about business, and her firm tone reflected that perfectly.

"Listen sweetheart, I got thousands of guys comin' through the doors every week. You think I'm gonna remember one of 'em? You gotta be kiddin' me."

"I don't joke around when it comes to murder Mr Cameone. I want the security tapes from all the cameras in the club."

His response was delivered with a smirk that made Calleigh want to kick him.

"Well, I'd love to help you out there poppet, but y'see the camera's are just for show, can't afford to run a top notch security system."

Horatio cringed ever so slightly, calling Calleigh 'sweetheart' and 'poppet' was not in the club owner's best interests, Horatio had heard stories about Calleigh from the academy, one of the senior cadets had called her 'poppet', not realising that the mild and cute exterior masked a powerful and competent individual. She'd gone easy on him, she'd let him out of the arm-lock before she'd snapped his wrist. But the humiliation of being pinned by a new recruit had followed him through to graduation. _No-one_ called Calleigh 'poppet'.

"Then we'll just have to see what other avenues are available to us." She delivered her response in a voice edged with a threat, and turned on her heel exiting the club with Horatio at her side.

"The guy's dirty Horatio."

"Without a doubt. But we still need to prove it." Horatio paused as they left the dull confines of the club and walked into the blistering sunshine. "And I think I might have a way of doing just that."

"How?" She stopped dead in her tracks.

"Take a look up there." Horatio pointed towards the roof of the building adjacent to Club Noir, where a piece of glass shined with the reflection of the sunlight.

"It's a camera."

From its high viewpoint Horatio was certain that the security camera would cover all activity in the alleyway, including the back entrance to Noir.

"Yep. Maybe Mr Cameone doesn't bother with security in his club, but it looks like his neighbour isn't quite so blasé."

"Then let's go talk to the neighbour." Calleigh instantly understood where Horatio was going with his train of thought, and a wide grin appeared on her face.

"My feelings exactly."

The café next door was open, Horatio pushed the door inwards and the appealing aroma of fresh baked bread assailed his senses, he breathed deeply; savouring the smell and held the door open allowing Calleigh to pass through.

"Well thank-you kind Sir." She chuckled, making a mock curtsey as she passed and moved towards the back of the café to speak to the kind-faced woman behind the counter. When she approached she spoke softly, surreptitiously displaying her badge so that none of the other customers in the café could hear her or see the badge. Discretion was going to be an advantage in this situation as she was pretty certain that scaring away any customers wasn't exactly going to improve their chances of getting hold of the video from the security camera.

"Ma'am, my name is Calleigh Duquesne, I'm a CSI with the MDPD, I'd like to speak to the owner if that's possible." She smiled sweetly, which served to relax the woman a little after the initial shock of finding a police presence.

"Certainly." The woman turned and called through a small hatch into another room, "Rosie, some people to see you."

Rosie turned out to be a short, plump, middle-aged woman, her slightly greying hair was pinned up into a bun, although one or two strands had worked their way free and had fallen over her eye. She had a smear of flour on her cheek, bright eyes and creases in her skin that suggested years of laughter, Horatio's immediate thought was that she belonged in a children's storybook. The woman behind the counter leaned over and whispered something in the owner's ear and Rosie's eyes darted over to Calleigh and Horatio, a curious look on her face.

"Come on back." She called over her shoulder as she headed through a door marked 'Staff Only'

A few minutes later the two CSIs were seated comfortably at a table in what they assumed was a kind of staff room, although it was far cosier than any staff area either of them had ever encountered before. Two squashy armchairs sat to one side, and the whole room was decorated in a kind of chintzy style with large floral fabrics everywhere. Rosie had introduced herself fully as Rosalee Ladanza and then vanished, but reappeared moments later with a tray bearing a pot of coffee and a plate crammed with delicious-looking sweet pastries.

"Now how do you two take your coffee? You'll no doubt drink it black." She said with a sideways glance and a grin in Horatio's direction. He smiled and nodded. "And you…you'll have a sugar and just a dash of cream, am I right?" Calleigh nodded in astonishment.

Horatio had to admit it was the first time he'd encountered any kind of sixth sense used to make a cup of coffee.

"Just you help yourself to something to eat." She put a plate in front of both Horatio and Calleigh.

"Oh, thank-you, but I really…"

Calleigh didn't have a chance to finish her polite refusal, the pink-faced café owner raised a finger and waggled it at the petite CSI.

"Now don't you even think about it. That's the problem with you young 'uns today, don't eat enough, my Mama always said we should live to eat, not eat to live. Besides, can't have law enforcement going hungry now." She looked at them sternly.

Calleigh shot a quick glance towards Horatio and their eyes met as a silent agreement passed between the two of them, _no-one at the lab finds out that we were bullied into anything by a middle-aged woman that looked like she'd fallen out of a fairytale_. And simultaneously they both reached over and picked up a sticky bun, blushing furiously.

"That's better." Rosie was now grinning at them. "Now, how can I help Miami's finest?"

She had to wait a couple of seconds for an answer, Horatio had just taken a bite of the sticky pastry and the flavours of raisins, cinnamon and icing were currently assaulting all his taste buds. Calleigh had momentarily closed her eyes to savour the similar tastes.

Rosie laughed at their reactions. "Well, I'd say those are two satisfied customers…" She let the comment hang until both CSIs had swallowed. "But anyway, I suppose it's something to do with that place next door."

"You have a lot of trouble with the nightclub Ma'am?" Horatio's tone was concerned.

"Oh there's always one thing or another. Used to be one of the biggest nightclubs in the city, then it got a bit grotty and it was converted into a lovely little hotel, owned by a nice couple, then that thug Cameone took over the place, restored it to it's former purpose as a club, nothing but trouble since he took over." She snorted quietly to illustrate her lack of amiability towards the man. "But what does it have to do with me?"

"We're looking into something that may have occurred last Wednesday night, and we noticed that you have a camera in the alleyway between the properties, does it work?"

"You better believe it works."

"Would you mind if we took a look at the tape for last Wednesday? It would be very helpful." Calleigh asked before popping the final bite of her pastry into her mouth.

"Of course you can dear. I'll go and find the tape out for you. It might take me a little while to find the right tape, you just help yourselves to more coffee and cakes while I'm gone."

This time neither Calleigh nor Horatio needed prompting twice, both grinned like little children let loose in a candy factory and reached for another bun. Prompting a laugh from the owner as she left the room.

They left the little café a while later with the video tape as well as a bag full of sweet treats that Rosie had insisted they take to share around the rest of the department. As they drove through the Miami streets towards the lab Horatio's cell phone sparked into life, he retrieved it from his pocket and flipped open the cover.

"Caine."

"Hey sugar. You wanna hear something interesting?"

"Always, Alexx."

"Tox results came back, and your floater from Bayfront park had enough ex in his system to fell an elephant."

"He overdosed on ecstasy?"

"Yep. There's no signs that he was forced to take the stuff, looks like he dosed up willingly. My guess is he wanted an instant high. When it didn't happen he re-upped. Took a few more pills and the cumulative effect sent his medulla oblongata into overdrive and killed him."

"Ok, so all we need to find out now is how he got into the water."

"Well, I can't help you there, honey. You gotta figure that out for yourself."

"Thanks Alexx."

Horatio related the medical findings to Calleigh who nodded to indicate she had understood.

---------------------------------

Ryan rubbed his eyes and shuffled in his seat trying to get some feeling back into his legs. He'd been watching the video that Horatio and Calleigh had bought back from the café for hours. It was amazing just how slow time seemed to pass when you spent the afternoon staring at a grainy black and white video image. Suddenly he sat forward and, pressing a few buttons, paused the image on the screen, rewound it and watched it again. His eyes now wide open; he grabbed his phone from where it sat on the desk in front of him.

"Horatio…"

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

"So let's try this again shall we Mr Cameone. Do you remember this man?" Horatio lifted the same photograph he'd shown to the club owner earlier in the day. Instead of the dimly lit surroundings of Club Noir this interview was taking place in the bright atmosphere of the MDPD interrogation suite. The honeycomb mesh on the windows simply served to cut thin voids in the rays of light streaming through the window, covering the room and its occupants in criss-cross patterns of light and shade.

"What, you got short term memory problems man? I told you I never seen this guy before."

"How about now?" Horatio handed an enhanced image of a still frame that Ryan had lifted from the security video. The frame clearly showed Cameone and another man dragging the body of Samuel Jarman out of the rear entrance to the club. The next image that Horatio passed across the table showed them bundling the body into the back of an SUV.

Cameone raised his hands in a kind of 'slow down' motion. All the arrogance he had been full of when he had entered the room instantly vanished.

"Whoa. Listen, I swear that guy was already dead when I found him, ok? I never killed him."

"I know." Horatio's response was little more than a whisper.

"I never…what?"

"I know you didn't kill him, the cause of death has been confirmed as an accidental overdose. However, I also know you disturbed a potential crime scene, removed the body from the premises of your club and dumped his body in the sea, the pictures prove it. What you did was cover up an accidental death and waste a lot of police time and resources."

The club owner shrank down in his seat, cowed by Horatio's passionate and accusatory response.

"Look, PD investigated that death at the club last month, it shut us down for over a week while you guys swabbed every surface, photographed every single blood drop and took samples of all the drinks in the place. You know how much money I lost because of that? I couldn't afford to let it happen again, just because some punk kid goes and ODs in the club." Cameone's voice had descended to little more than a whine, akin to that of a child trying to wheedle his way out of trouble with a thin excuse.

"So I guess you can put a sum on a man's life."

"I didn't do anything wrong."

Horatio raised his eyebrows and shook his head slightly.

"Apparently, Mr Cameone, you and I have very different ideas of doing nothing wrong. You wasted valuable police time and impeded a police enquiry. And now, you'll be charged with interfering with an official investigation and we'll have to see whether you'll manage to get an extension on your liquor licence when it's up for renewal, although somehow I doubt you'll manage it." Horatio nodded to the uniformed officer standing beside the door to the interview room, indicating that he should read the club owner his rights and book him.

As he watched Cameone walk away, Horatio couldn't help but be reminded of another era in Miami history. Between 1980 and '81 crime levels in Miami shot through the roof; making Florida the number one state in the country for homicides. During that time there were so many murders that it was a common occurrence for club workers to clear bodies from their premises each night and dump them out with the trash. The then county coroner was forced to hire a refrigerated truck from the local Burger King in order to deal with the surplus of corpses. It was sad that even after all the time that had passed some people still viewed death not as a tragedy, but an inconvenience, a victim as an expendable human being to be tossed away with the trash. This was one of the reasons, he decided, that he worked so hard for the victims, so that no-one would ever be treated as a worthless inconvenience again, he would work night and day if it meant that everyone got a voice.

_To be continued…_

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_A/N –According to reporter Edna Buchanan the 1980 –'81 crime surge actually happened in Miami, and the coroner really did have to hire a refrigerated truck from the local Burger King as extra storage for all the bodies. Sometimes real life is infinitely stranger than fiction!_

_BTW - Thank-you all for your lovely reviews – I appreciate it!! – Stay tuned there's plenty more to come._


	7. Chapter 7

Horatio pulled up at the kerbside and glanced over at his passenger. Grace hadn't stopped fidgeting for the whole journey, shifting in her seat, wringing her hands, drawing breath like she was about to say something, but at the last minute couldn't find the words. Horatio didn't try to push her to say anything; he knew that she was caught up in her own thoughts and reminiscences about her sister right now and in a way he didn't want to intrude on what he saw as a very personal and private moment. He ignored the no parking sign clearly displayed on the nearby wall, one of the advantages of driving a Police Department Hummer was that no-one questioned your right to be anywhere.

Horatio had easily located the address of the strip club that Sarah Turner's parole officer had given him as her charge's place of work. The rather dowdy looking building was located on one of the side streets leading off from the less attractive end of Collins Avenue. Horatio was always surprised that the city's drive to attract tourists hadn't led to the establishments in this area being issued with enforcement notices to ensure they cleaned up the appearance of their properties. But then again, he thought, perhaps such seedy backwater clubs spoke of Miami's more infamous past reputation as a metropolis of vice, a city built from the proceeds of drug running and murder and were in their own way a tourist attraction.

As he turned off the engine the sudden lack of noise pulled Grace out of her internal musings and she looked around, eyes wide, apparently surprised that they had reached their destination and yet she had no recollection of the journey.

"You sure you want to do this?" Horatio asked softly.

She paused.

"Yeah, I've been waiting years to do this." She smiled faintly at him, a kind of queasy smile that told him her insides were churned up with nerves.

"Ok then, let's go."

He jumped down from the driver's seat and strode around the vehicle to help Grace out of her seat. She took his hand and hopped down. Horatio held onto her hand a little longer than was necessary, giving it a little squeeze. She looked at him, emerald green eyes locking with his deep blue ones for the briefest of seconds and a silent message passed between them, just knowing that Horatio was right by her side gave her a little more strength and confidence.

A neon sign above the door declared the club's name in a less than subtle way, the word _'Flames'_ still shone out, despite the fact that it wasn't yet dark enough to have any kind of visual impact on the surrounding area. Glancing up towards the sign Grace noticed that at one time the club's name had been accompanied by animated flames, flickering in their neon splendour, but apparently maintenance wasn't particularly high on the agenda here, and the tubes filled with the neon gas flashed sporadically in a pattern that wasn't particularly recognisable as a representation of fire in the slightest. Inside her stomach clenched a little tighter as she considered that if the owner wasn't inclined to maintain the building they were even less likely to treat the girls that worked within with any kind of respect.

Going to the back door of the club Horatio pulled out his police identification, and the bouncer let them through with a curious glance. Once inside they were greeted by an atmosphere of smoke and alcohol fumes, perforated by a club beat to which a couple of girls gyrated on stage at the far end of the club. Several other, barely dressed women either walked between the groups of men, carrying trays or danced seductively in a private show. Horatio asked the next woman to come close to them where they would find Phoenix.

"Oh she's out back in the dressing room, honey. She's not due on stage for another half hour, but if you want some fun in the meantime…" She pouted and arranged her body in a way that rather obviously, considering she was wearing only a bikini, displayed her assets.

Horatio quickly declined her offer, a slight blush coming to his cheeks, which, despite the darkened surroundings Grace apparently noticed, and Horatio heard her attempting to suppress her laughter. Offended slightly at Horatio's apparent ambivalence towards her; the young woman walked away to find a more willing patron. With a quick flick of her hips and a flutter of her eyelashes she vanished into the murk of the club.

Horatio glanced over at Grace, who had regained her composure and now stood staring around with a wide-eyed expression on her face.

"C'mon." He steered her in the direction the young woman had indicated for the dressing rooms. As they reached the door Grace paused.

"You want me to come in with you?" He asked gently.

"No, thanks. I guess this is something I've got to do on my own." She replied. Then, taking a deep breath she pushed open the door and walked inside.

It had been over twenty minutes since Grace had vanished through the door leading to the dressing rooms. Horatio was brimming with curiosity, and was just a little bit apprehensive. There hadn't been any screaming or yelling, so that had to be a good sign, but then again there hadn't been any noise at all, that might be a bad sign, he was just considering whether he should check if everything was ok when finally she reappeared at the door. He could tell she'd been crying, there were mascara smudges under her eyes, but she was smiling, that had to be good. He let a breath, that he hadn't realised he'd been holding, out in a long relieved hiss. Grace was followed out of the dressing room by a slim, curvaceous woman, the kind that wouldn't be out of place on a catwalk, she was wearing only a red and gold bikini embroidered with a flame motif and staggeringly tall high heels that prompted Horatio to wonder how on earth she could even stand up. _This must be Phoenix_, he thought, and his assumption was validated when the stranger turned and gave Grace a hug. The skin of her back was covered with a huge inked phoenix design, the majestic creature emerged from tattooed flames erupting from her waist, it's illustrated wings of red and gold spreading out over her shoulders and it's head reaching right up to her neck.

Grace shuffled over to where Horatio was waiting and led him away, throwing a quick wave and a smile over her shoulder.

Grace revealed little about the reunion as he drove her back to her temporary home, just that Sarah had been a little defensive at first, but when she'd told her that she didn't care what she did for a living or what she'd done in the past Sarah had hugged her and they'd both descended into tears. Grace revealed that the two sisters were meeting tomorrow for lunch to talk through some things. He was glad it had gone well, but from his point of view, the best part of the day for Horatio came as he dropped Grace outside her apartment building. She pulled on the Hummer's door release catch, opening the door a little, before changing her mind, and turning in her seat to face Horatio. She leaned over and gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

"You have no idea what you've done means to me. Thank-you Horatio." She gave a little smile as she raised her eyes to meet his. Horatio didn't need her to say thank-you, the sentiment was written in her eyes, eyes that lit up with happiness and contentment. As she jumped down from the passenger seat and closed the door she gave him a little wave.

The tingly feeling that started at the point where Grace's lips had touched his skin quickly washed over Horatio and lulled him into a kind of euphoria that lasted for hours.

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

It had been a long day and Horatio was glad to be home, finally. He sniffed at his shirt to try and locate the source of the less than pleasant smell that he could detect, _mmm, decomp_ he thought. Amazing really, the body's ability to adjust to its surroundings, Horatio mused. After spending several hours gathering trace from a significantly decomposed corpse his olfactory sense had apparently become so accustomed to the putrid smell of rotting flesh that he was completely unaware of it. It was only when the poor couple who had been unfortunate enough to end up with him in the lift in his apartment block had started trying to get as far away as is humanely possible in a two metre square metal box that Horatio had figured that he must have dragged the smell of death home with him. And now, in the fresh and fragrant surroundings of his airy apartment the full force of the odour became apparent to him.

"Hmm," Horatio muttered quietly to himself, "first job, shower."

As Horatio shut the door behind him and tossed his keys onto the table the apartment was filled with a jolly and melodious ringing sound. He used his home phone so rarely that at first he wasn't entirely sure where the noise was coming from, and had to hunt around for a few seconds. Finally locating the source of the noise he picked up the handset from the cradle and lifted it to his ear.

"Hello?" He fought the automatic reaction to answer the phone with his usual brusque 'Caine' as he would at work.

"Hey Horatio."

"Grace? Hi. Are you ok?"

"Yep. Better than ok, I'm great."

"Well that's good to hear. Any particular reason, or is it just a good day?"

"Well, I made a decision, and I wanted you to be the first to know." She paused, dragging out the suspense.

"And?" Internally Horatio's stomach did back-flips as his mind raced through a hundred possibilities of what the forthcoming information was going to be, each idea more ludicrous than the last. His mind was so busy that he almost missed her next comment.

"And I decided to accept the job offer with that fashion house. I'm going to move down here, permanently." The last word was broached with a little trepidation, as if she was nervous about how he would react.

Horatio's heart soared and a grin jumped to his face.

"That's great news. What made you decide?"

"Well it's taken me a while to decide what I wanted to do, but in the end it came down to three main reasons. I mean I haven't seen my sister in years, she's got a totally new life here, I guess it feels like I don't know who she is and this gives me a great excuse to get to know her again. Plus I get the pick of the best assignments in my new job, so it's a great opportunity to develop my career."

"And? You said there were three reasons, now I'm no mathematician, but even I can count that's only two so far."

She was quiet for a while on the other end of the connection, the embarrassment was palpable, as if she was working up the courage to say something. "Grace, you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm still here." _Just say it, throw it out there girl, just say it._ Grace intoned silently to herself, irritated at her own lack of confidence as she fell quiet for a few more seconds. Taking a deep breath she continued. "Well honestly? The third reason was that I met this really nice guy at a café on my first day down here, and I guess I kinda want to get to know him a bit better." She rushed the last bit in a desperate attempt to say it before she lost her nerve and clammed up.

Rushed or not Horatio understood exactly what she was saying, and felt the blush starting around his neck and gradually rising until it consumed his entire face. Suppressing the urge to whoop and punch the air he made a valiant attempt at regaining his demure composure.

"Sounds like some pretty good reasons to me."

Grace could hear the bounce in his voice that meant he was smiling at the other end of the phone, and she gradually let out the breath she'd been holding, relieved that he hadn't run a mile at the suggestion, buoyed by the fact that on the contrary he sounded pretty happy about the idea.

"Horatio?"

"Yeees?"

"I need to ask a favour."

He chuckled. "So this is how it works is it? You spring something like this on me and then take advantage of me while my brain's still trying to catch up?"

"Darn it, you've seen through my cunning plan." She laughed. "When's your next day off?"

"Umm," He mentally scanned his work schedule for the next few days, "I have Saturday off. Why?"

"Because I need some insider knowledge on the property market. If I'm going to come live down here then I'm gonna need you to help me hunt for an apartment to rent."

"And what is my incentive?"

"You drive a hard bargain Lieutenant. How about dinner, I'll cook."

"Deal. I'll come by and pick you up on Saturday."

"Thanks Horatio."

"No problem. And Grace? I'm really glad you decided to stay." With that last phrase he ended the call.

Horatio stared at the phone for a few minutes after he had put it down, unable to stop grinning. He bounced on the balls of his feet, the happiness that was welling up inside him making him feel as light as a feather. He wandered back through the apartment, a renewed skip in his step, completely unaware that across town Grace was going through exactly the same motions.

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

Grace sat back in her seat and yawned. Looking over at her, Horatio chuckled quietly.

"Hey, don't you get falling asleep over there. You've still got to keep up your end of the bargain yet and cook me dinner."

She threw him an evil look and curled up in the car seat pretending to snore.

It had undoubtedly been an incredibly long day, the apartment they'd just left had to have been the tenth one they'd viewed that day. Grace had got a list of available properties from the agent and Horatio had gone through them, vetoing some until he'd finally managed to narrow down the list of properties to take a look at to an acceptable number. Gradually they'd visited them throughout the day, one by one crossing them off the list.

Of course some had been more appealing than others. Grace shuddered as she thought about the first apartment they'd viewed that morning. The building supervisor had immediately creeped her out with his lecherous stare and sweaty palms, and the place had smelt so strongly of wet dog that she was certain that the odour had scarred the skin of her nasal passages for life. The other apartments they saw were either too small or too dark or up about a million stairs with no lift. The last one they'd viewed however, had been pretty much perfect. The right size, it was clean, bright and airy. Everything was screaming at her to sign a contract right then and there, and she was curious when Horatio all but pushed her out of the door before they'd even spent ten minutes looking around. When she'd questioned him, her manner rather irritable, as they'd climbed back into the Hummer he had been somewhat reluctant to divulge his reasons for not wanting her to rent the place.

Eventually, after a great deal of cajoling, indignant huffing and snorting as well as over five minutes of the silent treatment, Horatio had relented and revealed that the reason the place was empty in the first place was that the previous tenant had been the victim of a rather brutal murder whereby his throat had been slashed, his gut cut open and his internal organs spread around the kitchen. Horatio had been the lead investigator in the case and had been one of the first to witness the crime scene in all its bloody glory. Thinking back, Grace realised that the building supervisor had looked a bit shifty when he'd seen Horatio. Sometimes, she thought, a bit of local insight could be very useful, especially when that insight came in the form of a CSI.

Horatio's phone rang, he glanced down at the display window, grinning, and flipped open the cover, and punched a button to turn on the speaker phone option.

"Hi Calleigh."

The responding voice that reverberated around the vehicle's interior was filled with concern.

"Horatio? Are you ok?"

"Yep, I'm fine."

"Well where are you then?"

"Bay Heights."

"You got a call out?"

"It's my day off Calleigh."

"I know, but…well…you usually work on your days off anyway."

"Not today Cal." He looked over at Grace who giggled. Horatio tried to work out whether it was loud enough that Calleigh would have heard the giggle, and decided that a cricket hiccupping three miles away would probably be loud enough for Calleigh to hear.

"Say hello to Grace, Calleigh." He chuckled, deciding that dealing with this head on would be preferable to having the pretty Southern investigator sniffing around his life for the next few weeks until he finally relented and spilled the information.

"Hi Grace."

"Hi Calleigh."

"Well I'm glad I've finally found someone who can keep Horatio out of the lab on his days off." He could hear her trying to hold back the 'Oooh', and her voice gave away the fact that she was now grinning from ear to ear. Always a consummate professional whilst working a case, in other areas Calleigh was the typical Southern woman, who just loved a bit of gossip.

"I'll do my best." She grinned.

"Well I gotta go, I'll leave you folks to it." There was a click as Calleigh disconnected, and Horatio knew that within seconds she would be relaying the development of Horatio spending his day off with a mystery woman to Ryan and Eric, who would both start questioning him the instant he walked through the doors of the lab, but he would deal with that situation when the time came.

There was just one more apartment for them to take a look at before they could call it a day. They had exhausted Grace's list of possibilities, and were now whizzing through the streets of Miami on the way to take a look at a place that Horatio had suggested.

When they pulled up outside the building Grace's breath caught in her throat. It was beautiful, right by the sea, the light-coloured exterior reflected the sunlight making the building virtually glow. If the interior was anything like the exterior, she thought, it was going to be perfect. No, it was going to be beyond perfect, more than she could ever have dreamed of. Grace looked over, open-mouthed at Horatio, who simply sat there with a huge grin plastered on his face.

"Can I afford it?"

"Yep, it's right in your price bracket."

"Then what's wrong with it?" She asked suspiciously.

"Not a thing. It's not officially on the market yet though. But I have a friend in the property market that owes me a favour."

"What's it like inside?"

"Why don't we go and take a look." He chuckled, jangling a set of keys in front of her.

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Just a couple of weeks later Grace took a flight back up to New York in order to sort out her things, packing up her life into boxes in an attempt to move seamlessly down to the Sunshine State. The contract on her new apartment was signed and sealed and it was ready for her to move in. When they'd taken a look around, the place had been just as gorgeous as she'd thought it would be, sunlight streaming in through the huge, plate glass windows with a view that looked straight out over the clear turquoise-blue waters of Biscayne Bay. Within seconds of walking through the door she already had the whole place mapped out, knowing exactly where all her belongings would be positioned. She had officially accepted the position she'd been offered, and her new job with the fashion house would start in a couple of weeks. All in all life was about as perfect as it could get.

But unfortunately, as is normally the case, Fate suddenly decided to change the boundaries and play by another set of rules altogether, a set of rules that no-one but Fate was privy to and that would soon turn more than one seemingly perfect life upside-down.

_To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

Horatio checked his watch and started to gather the things on his desk together, preparing to call it a day. Grace's flight from New York should have touched down in Miami a few hours ago, he'd offered to pick her up from the airport, but she'd told him not to worry about it. She had, however, decided to take him up on his offer of dinner that night, so it was with a light heart that he turned off the computer in his office and strode out of the lab. His cell phone began to ring just as he got outside, the caller display told him it was Grace, he smiled and flipped the phone open.

"Hi, did you get back to Miami ok?"

"Um, yeah." Grace's breathing was fast and there was a tone to her voice that made Horatio stand still and start to listen intently as the innate investigator in him took over. "Listen, Horatio I think there's something wrong. Sarah said she was going to meet me from the plane, but she never turned up this afternoon. I tried phoning her, but there was no answer, and when I got over to her place the door looks like it's been forced open. Her place is a real mess Horatio, I didn't know what to do."

"Where are you now?" His tone had changed from the soft, slightly goofy voice that he automatically lapsed into when he spoke to Grace and into the official tone of a CSI.

"I'm standing right outside Sarah's apartment. I didn't touch anything though."

"What's the address?"

She relayed the address to Sarah's apartment, and he pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket and made a small note on his hand.

"Grace, listen to me, I want you to get out of the building now. Is there a bar or a café nearby?"

"Um, yeah there's a bar just down the block. It's usually packed though."

"Good. I want you to go there and stay until I come find you. You understand? Don't leave until I fetch you. Promise?"

He knew that ordering Grace out of the apartment was probably a bit over-cautious, but he wasn't taking any risks on this one. He'd seen cops, good cops, not rookies too inexperienced to know better, go down in the line of duty because the perp hadn't left the scene yet. He was determined not to let Grace stay in the building if there was any chance that the burglar, or whoever had broken into Sarah's apartment, might still be inside. And while he acknowledged that he was just being overprotective, a feeling inside him told him that there was something very wrong. He wanted Grace to be somewhere where there were lots of people, in his experience, the adage 'safety in numbers' most often proved to be true.

"Horatio, I don't…"

"Promise me Grace." His voice was getting desperate.

"Ok, I promise." There was something about that anxious tone in his voice that made Grace agree without any further argument. Horatio was always calm, collected and completely unflappable, to hear that fear from him made a shiver run through Grace's body.

"Good, I'm going to get someone to check out the apartment. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Ok." He could hear her moving down stairs, following his instructions and leaving the building. He stayed on the phone long enough for her to get onto the street and then hung up, immediately dialling the police dispatch desk and requesting that a unit be sent to the address that Grace had just given him immediately.

"Yes Sir, a unit is on its way."

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By the time he rolled up outside the low rent apartment block there was already a patrol car sitting visibly in front of the building. Good, he thought, that meant that the crime scene, if there was a crime, was secure, giving him the opportunity to find Grace before getting to work on the apartment.

He left the Hummer outside the apartment block and walked hurriedly down the street breaking into a jog until the bar's street frontage came into view, even though it was only late afternoon he found it busy, mainly groups of young men relaxing with a few beers after work. It didn't take him any time at all to find the petite New Yorker that he was looking for, she was ensconced in a seat by the window, and had probably been scanning the street waiting for him to arrive ever since she'd sat down. When she spotted him, she quickly discarded the glass she was holding and made her way to the entrance. Her progress through the bar was halted when she reached a group of men who seemed to have made a good start on a weekend binge.

"Excuse me please." Grace spoke politely to the guy standing in her way. He glanced in her direction, smirked and turned back to his buddies, remaining in her way.

Grace snorted in frustration and repeated her request. Again he ignored her.

Horatio made his way over to the group.

"I think the young lady wants to get past son." He spoke in a quiet voice, yet there was a slight element of a threat to his tone.

A glance in Horatio's direction, and a less than friendly response was forthcoming.

"What's it to you?" There was a round of idiotic laughter from his buddies.

"Move out of the lady's way." His voice wasn't as quiet this time and it was definitely a command, not a request. This time there was no laughter from the group.

"And what're you…gonna…do…" His tone went from hostile to uncertain, and the comment died on his lips as he looked at Horatio properly. The CSI supervisor stood with his hands placed firmly on his hips, jacket pulled back to clearly reveal his police badge, and probably more importantly in this situation, his 9mm Glock firearm.

"Um, sorry Ma'am." The stranger moved quickly out of Grace's way with a muttered apology.

Grace shot him an unimpressed look and joined Horatio as he walked out of the bar's main entrance. She made sure they were out of view of the bar before she gave Horatio a quick hug.

"Thanks for coming down here. I know it's probably nothing, but I was worried."

"Hey, no problem. It's all part of the job." He flashed her a smile, that belied his relief at finding her completely unhurt.

They retraced their steps back to Sarah's building in no time. There was now another police cruiser parked outside, its occupants waiting nearby to see if they were needed. Horatio pulled the keys to the Hummer out of his pocket and unlocked the doors. Opening the passenger door he motioned for Grace to get in. Knowing there were officers just metres away he felt a little better about leaving her while he moved into CSI mode.

"Grace honey, I need you to stay here while I go and take a look around the apartment, ok?"

"But I…"

"Listen, if we find anything up there, and I'm not saying we will." He added the last phrase hurriedly when he saw the look that spread over Grace's face. "But if we do, you might compromise the scene. Lock the doors when I'm gone, ok? Any problems just yell for the officers." He pointed over towards the police cruiser.

She didn't say anything, just nodded, slid into the Hummer's passenger seat and watched as Horatio walked around the back of the vehicle and retrieved the silver case that held his forensics kit. He hefted the case out of the trunk, feeling its reassuring weight in his grip. As he shut the rear door he heard a dull click as Grace followed his instructions and locked the doors. A few strides and he had crossed the expanse of asphalt and reached the doorway into the apartment block. Pausing momentarily he beckoned one of the uniformed officers over.

"The woman in the Hummer is a potential witness. I need you to keep an eye on her."

"No problem Lieutenant."

Horatio nodded his thanks before turning back towards the building.

Just before he entered the hallway and disappeared from view he turned once again to look at Grace who was numbly watching him walk away. As she saw him stop and turn she managed a weak smile and a little wave to prompt him onwards. He returned the smile and forced himself to leave her there and proceeded into the darkness of the unknown.

_To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N – As always thank-you for the reviews, they make me happy!! What can I say, I'm a review nut! Glad to hear you're enjoying it so far- TenFour, Even I'm nervous about what's going to happen next and I know how it turns out!! winks – Enjoy._

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As he opened the door from the stairwell a uniformed officer standing outside the apartment turned to look at him and took a step forward ready to stop him in his path towards the scene. Horatio pulled his jacket back to reveal his badge and gun, and the officer halted his progress towards the newcomer and stood a little taller and straighter as he recognised the man as a superior officer.

"Evening Lieutenant."

"Officer." Horatio nodded his head in acknowledgement of the greeting. "What've we got?"

"Looks like a burglary. Place is a real mess, no sign of anyone inside though. We checked to make sure the place was clear, and there are no casualties."

"No casualties here at least. You said 'we'?" Horatio took a glance around trying to find any sign of another police presence.

"My partner's just chatting to one of the neighbours," he jabbed his thumb down the hallway to where a door stood ajar and the voices could be heard from within. "Seeing if anyone heard anything."

"Good job officer. I'm going to take a quick look around." Horatio snapped on a pair of latex gloves and entered the apartment.

The officer had been right, the place was a real mess, furniture was upended and crockery smashed. The door to the bedroom had been forced open, probably with a well placed shove from a shoulder, Horatio thought. All the classic signs of a struggle were there, but so too were the TV and DVD player, jewellery lay abandoned on a table beside a set of keys. If this was a burglary, they'd done a pretty bad job of it. But on the other hand Horatio found a couple of envelopes addressed to utility companies sitting ready to be posted on the kitchen counter, paying the monthly bills was not the actions of someone who planned to vanish, wherever Sarah was, he guessed that she hadn't gone willingly. The suspicion that this was part of something altogether more sinister crawled into Horatio's mind and jabbed incessantly at his mental process. He pushed the feeling to one side, partly because he wanted the evidence to inform his conclusions rather than his suspicions, and partly because he dreaded the possibility of having to tell Grace her sister had been attacked and possibly kidnapped…or worse.

Stepping into the bedroom, being careful not to disturb anything as he moved he saw a hold-all style bag lying on the bed, it looked like the contents had been hastily shoved inside. Across the room a small window stood open, the thin sheet of net fabric that had been pushed to one side of the aperture swayed gently in the light breeze that blew into the room from the open ocean that lay in the distance. He turned his attention to the rest of the room. Something on one of the walls caught his eye, a fine spray, with larger blotches in places; medium velocity spatter. Horatio snapped off a series of photographs to record the spray before reaching into his kit that he had placed beside him on the floor. He ripped open the sterile packaging, pulled out a Q tip and swiped the cotton swab over the fine red spray. Once satisfied that he had a sample of the substance Horatio extracted a series of small bottles that would enable him to perform the Kastle-Meyer test, which would indicate whether the substance on the wall was indeed blood as he suspected. When he had the alcohol, phenolthaline and hydrogen peroxide lined up in front of him, he unscrewed the lids and squeezed a few drops of each liquid onto the swab. The reaction took just a few seconds, the chemical reacting with the test substance turning a bright pink, confirming the presence of blood. He drew a breath, knowing what the positive result might mean for Sarah. Taking a closer look he saw something else, he could see that the blood spray was mixed with something else, possibly saliva.

Horatio pictured the scene. _She'd been grabbing things from around the apartment, throwing clothes into a bag, ready to make a break for it, preparing to run. Someone knocked on the door, she ignored it. Another knock, closely followed by a shout, calling threats through the locked door. When she still didn't answer the uninvited visitor tried the handle, there was a thump as something hit the door, followed by the unmistakable sound of splintering wood. Scared, Sarah runs into the bedroom and locks the door after her. Outside; in the apartment the front door gives way under the incessant assault. Footsteps run up to the bedroom door and someone tries the handle. There's another thump as they start to batter at this next barrier, one shoulder thrust, two shoulder thrusts, the third breaks through and the door is flung open. Sarah cowers from her attacker, the intruder strikes her in the face, hard enough to break her lip and cause her to spray a mixture of blood and saliva onto the pale walls. The only chance was the open window._

But the question that remained swirling around Horatio's mind was; what had happened next? Had she made it out of the window? Horatio knew that the evidence would tell them.

After all, the evidence never lied.

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Ryan dipped the soft brush into the container and picked up some of the powder on the fine bristles. Tapping the handle of the brush lightly, some of the powder floated back into the pot, some, however, took flight; adding a light dusting of fingerprint powder to the surrounding air. He sniffed back a tickle in his nose. _That was the problem with dusting a place for prints,_ he thought ruefully, _the powder got absolutely everywhere._ In the humid atmosphere of Southern Florida perspiration was expected, but mix damp skin and airborne fingerprint powder and you got a look that wasn't exactly haute couture. On one occasion he'd left a scene so covered in the stuff some one had asked him if he'd been mining for coal. _But hey_, he thought, _if it meant they caught the bad guys he was quite prepared to take a bath in the stuff. _

Right now he was going over all the handles, countertops and any other surface that could conceivably hold a latent print from a would-be attacker. So far he'd pulled quite a few partials and several nice, juicy prints. Most of them would probably lead straight back to the apartment's occupier, but with any luck one or two might give them a suspect to work with.

Eric glanced over towards Ryan just in time to see him enveloped in another cloud of fingerprint powder and chuckled quietly to himself before returning his attention to the remnants of the front door. He didn't really expect that making a cast of the tool-marks would help, but he went through the process anyway. You never knew what unexpected information could be garnered from a run of the mill process. Eric had seen cases cracked wide open when a tool mark had displayed individual manufacturing marks or faults that made the weapon unique and instantly identifiable. Eric could only hope that the weapon used to jimmy open the apartment door had notches in it from previous use that might allow them to make a match between the tool-marks and an object found in a suspect's possession at one point.

It took a few minutes for the silicone-rubber paste to set properly, when it did Delko peeled the impression off the door and placed the cast in a plastic evidence bag ready for closer analysis back in the lab. He moved his inspection to the bottom half of the door where a smudge caught his attention. Damn, in order to take a good look he was going to have to take the door off the hinges, lucky he'd come prepared. Delko picked up the screwdriver that he had laid down beside him when he'd started his investigation, and began the task of removing the door from its frame. Once it was laid flat on the ground he plucked a gel lifter from his kit and pressed it against the smooth surface of the door making sure that there were no trapped air bubbles that might compromise a print. He peeled the lifter back and grinned as he saw a juicy boot print captured on the pad.

Horatio watched the team at work, each intent on their own task He'd called them in after he'd found the blood spatter in the bedroom, he wanted the best team on this case, and it swelled him with pride to know that his team was the best around. They'd arrived in less than ten minutes, Horatio assumed that Ryan had driven from the speed of their arrival and the slightly nervous look, accompanied by an almost unnoticeable twitch that Calleigh had developed since he'd last seen her, an affliction that only appeared after a hell for leather race through the streets of Miami with Ryan at the wheel.

Since their arrival Ryan had apparently swooped through the apartment like a whirlwind, covering every visible surface with a smattering of black powder; rectangular voids in the powder showing where he'd lifted a useable print, Eric had now finished studying the front door and had moved onto the bedroom door looking for prints, trace and tool marks. Horatio guessed by the smug look that sat firmly on his face that he was having some level of luck with his search. Calleigh was…_actually, where was Calleigh?_ Realising that he'd been deep in thought for some time Horatio cast his eyes around the room searching for the misplaced blonde ballistics expert. A noise behind him made him turn around to find Calleigh dumping an armful of evidence bags into a plastic box ready for transport back to the lab.

"Anything interesting?" Horatio queried.

"Couple of things. There's some minor blood spray on some of the clothes from the bedroom. It's just a working theory but it looks like someone was taken from this apartment by force."

"That would've been my guess too."

"Um, Horatio?" There was a tone to her voice that Horatio was familiar with, a deep concern. He knew what was coming. "D'you think you should work this case? I mean with Grace and…well…perhaps…"

"Don't worry Cal, I have no intention of compromising the investigation. Officially you'll act as the lead investigator in this case, but I'm staying on the team, purely in the background, because I can't escape the fact that it's personal."

"Ok." She nodded her head, satisfied with his reassurance. "We can finish up here, if you want to take Grace home."

"Thanks Cal."

"Layout room, first thing tomorrow, H?"

"You better believe it."

Horatio heard Calleigh chuckle as he walked away down the corridor.

_To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12

Calleigh made it sound so easy, 'take Grace home', Horatio knew that the reality was going to be much tougher, he was certain to be bombarded with a barrage of questions from the second he opened the Hummer's door, questions that he didn't have the answers to. But he couldn't berate her for wanting to know what had happened to her sister, it was only natural, and if he put himself in her position, he knew full well that he would react in exactly the same way. After all, when he'd been formally notified of Ray's death in that bust he'd gone so far as to take a look at the evidence from the scene as it was being collated because everyone else was keeping him in the dark.

He descended the stairs without really seeing them. His head was elsewhere, a mixture of thoughts bombarding each and every synapse of his brain in unison. _Flash._ Ray when he first joined the force, standing tall and strong in his new uniform, proudly following in the footsteps of his big brother. _Flash_. Grace asking him if she could sit at his table that first day he'd met her at the café on the waterfront. _Flash_. Ray's closed casket as it was lowered into the ground. _Flash_. Grace's worried face as he had left her sitting in the Hummer a few short hours ago.

He paused before rounding the corner of the stairwell and walking into the hallway where he could be seen from the street outside. He realised that he was just trying to delay the inevitable, and that he couldn't put it off forever, so, gathering his determination, he took that step into the light and looked directly ahead to where the Hummer was parked at the kerbside. Through the glass he saw Grace's head jerk up as she registered the movement within the hallway, and as she recognised him; sat up straighter in her seat. Horatio was momentarily reminded of one of the canine trackers he had used on occasional case, their senses were honed to perfection, maintained at the peak alertness and who went almost rigid when they picked up a sign of their quarry. He knew it was an inappropriate image, but he couldn't help where the reflexes of his brain took him.

Since he'd gone inside it had started raining. It was a typical Miami shower, the kind of rain that did nothing to relieve the almost unbearable humidity, but simply served to make life even more uncomfortable. He broke into a jog to cross the space to the Hummer quicker, but even the short distance left his jacket soaked and turned his hair a darker shade of red than its normal vibrant colour.

It was something that he missed about living in New York, the rain, it was so much different than down here in the tropical climate of Miami. After hot days in Manhattan where you could see steam rising from the roads, and a heat haze blurred your vision in the middle distance, the sky would start to rumble with a percussion of thunder before the heavens opened, hurling raindrops with such vehemence and venom that they would sting your skin. He remembered looking out of his apartment window and seeing the neighbourhood kids, ignoring their mothers' frantic calls to come in before they caught a cold, dancing in the street, whooping at the sky as if performing some sort of rain dance. But the rain always relieved the oppressive heat, at least for a few hours, before the next heat wave made temperatures soar again, forcing everyone back inside their air-conditioned homes. Miami rain storms made very little difference to the oppressive climate, except that when they caught you outside they served only to make you hot, sticky and wet; rather than just hot and sticky.

"What did you find? What's going on? Where is she?"

Horatio could hear the questions through the glass, before he'd even reached out to pull on the handle that would open the vehicle's door. He refrained from answering until he had opened the driver's door, slid into the seat and closed the door behind him.

"Well? What's going on Horatio?" Grace's voice was filled with expectation, as well as a good measure of irritability. And Horatio could only imagine what gruesome theories she's been concocting in her mind. He noticed that one of his old forensics journals lay discarded by Grace's feet. He guessed she may have got bored while she was waiting and combed the Hummer for any reading material she could get her hands on, probably desperate for something to take her mind off what was going on inside that apartment building, unfortunately it wasn't exactly the best thing to be looking at when you were in a situation such as the one Grace found herself in now.

"I don't really know, Grace."

She snorted, folding her arms in front of her and fixing Horatio with a defiant stare.

"Don't treat me like some kindergarten kid Horatio. I want to know what's going on."

He sighed.

"Grace, you've gotta believe me when I say I don't really know. My team is still processing up there, we won't know until we can put everything together. And even then we might not have a clear answer for you."

"Then tell me what you know so far. You had to have found something to make you call the rest of the team in."

"Ok." He ran his fingers roughly through his hair, causing droplets of rainwater to fall with a 'drip' onto the seat, and giving him a tousled appearance. He leaned back, closed his eyes and sighed, trying to put everything he knew into some sort of order. "The main door has been forced open, like you thought. Bedroom door has also been forced." He paused, hoping she would be satisfied with that information, but she was better at reading him than he thought, and saw the hesitation that meant he was holding something back.

"That's not it Horatio. What made you want that apartment processed?"

He noted that she had used the term 'processed' rather than 'searched', no doubt a term she'd picked up from the journal she'd been reading.

"There was a small amount of medium velocity blood spatter on the wall of the bedroom, but," he hurried on seeing the look on her face, "That could be old. Could be that a boyfriend decided to rough her up a bit."

"Medium velocity? That's from blunt force, right? Not a gun shot."

Horatio nodded.

"You've been reading my journal. No, not from a gun shot, projectile injuries of that type would present _high_ velocity spatter. Listen, we both know that Sarah's no angel, I've seen her record, could be that she pissed off somebody she shouldn't have and had to skip town for a while. Could be that the blood in the bedroom's old and she climbed out of the window and down the fire-escape before whoever was trying to get in managed to get to her." Horatio was propounding ideas that he had run through his own head when he'd gone over the scene. He didn't think they were true, but as an unbiased investigator he had a duty to consider all possibilities until he could prove them either right or wrong.

"She would've phoned me to say what had happening. She wouldn't want me to worry."

"Would she? Think about it. You've been back in touch with her for what? A little over a month, after years of having no contact other than the occasional Christmas card. When you run, you rely on your instincts, and her instincts are used to her being alone. Until the adrenaline stops pumping she might not even think about you." He looked over at Grace. "I know it's harsh, but I've got to say it." What he didn't say, but what had just started working its way through his brain was that maybe Grace's reappearance had made Sarah re-evaluate her life again, and not liking what she saw made the decision to cut her losses and start over again in a new city with a new life. He knew it didn't exactly fit all the evidence, but who knew what went through the mind of an irrational person, perhaps it was all staged with the intention of making Grace think she was dead. So that this time, big sister wouldn't come looking.

"But it could be that if she has got on the wrong side of the wrong people then perhaps she's broken contact with you so they don't come after you wanting to collect on whatever Sarah owes them.

"Listen, there's nothing more I can tell you until all the information's gathered together for analysis. Ok?"

Grace nodded, and sent a little smile in Horatio's direction to show she appreciated what he was doing. He knew the smile was forced, but it helped.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Horatio couldn't take the quiet anymore.

"So, I guess dinner's off?" It was a blatant attempt to divert the conversation away from the current topic, and Horatio cursed himself for his lack of tact. _Nicely done champ, that was the wrong thing to say, it was the wrong time and you said it in the wrong tone of voice – damn it, you're an idiot. _His feelings must have shown on his face because she leaned across and placed her hand gently on his, an understanding expression on her face.

"Not necessarily."

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_A/N – I'm going to be away from the computer for a couple of days so I won't be able to update, but I'll be back real soon._

_TenFour – Hope you're feeling a little more reassured._

_Lakshimbai – thanks for the comment, I've realised that in the coming chapters I'd actually skimped on the info on Sarah/Phoenix so a quick rewrite of a chapter is needed methinks! – This is why __**all**__ reviewers are so fabulous!!!_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N – I wasn't away for as long as I thought I was going to be. So here's the next little instalment. Enjoy._

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It had been ten minutes since Horatio had disappeared into the apartment block, and Grace was fighting an internal battle. One part of her wanted to be proactive and march straight into the building and demand to know exactly what was going on, the other, less self-assured part was planning a mutiny on its other half and wanted nothing more than to make her crawl up in a corner, stick her fingers in her ears and start singing at the top of her voice so that no-one could tell her any bad news.

Ignorance versus enlightenment, confidence versus paranoia.

Horatio had said to stay in the Hummer, she would be safe there.

_What the hell did Horatio know? Sarah was her sister, and if anything had happened then she damn well wanted to know._

But if she went stomping up there she might just disturb some tiny, vital piece of evidence, Horatio was a professional, he knew what he was doing.

_He was probably just humouring her by checking this out. The two cops that were standing just outside the building kept surreptitiously glancing over at her, they obviously thought she was nuts…_

The fighting back and forth in her head carried on for ages and was gradually sending her mad.

"This is ridiculous." She said out loud, in fact she almost shouted it and instantly shrank down in her seat to avoid the stares she was now getting from the two policemen nearby. _Well if they didn't think I was crazy before they certainly do now. Well done Grace._

But looking like a fool had been worth it, both opposing internal factions had huffed and gone to sulk in different corners of her brain, leaving her mind free for more rational thoughts. Grace chose to believe that Horatio knew what was best and that she should stay put until he came back. But just sitting was making her go stir crazy, she needed something to take her mind off the waiting. Grace twisted around so she was kneeling on the seat and leaned over into the back seat of the Hummer. If she thought she was going to find something back there to occupy her mind she was sorely disappointed. The back seat was pristine, like it had just been steam-cleaned. Grace suspected that if a microbe of dirt managed to make its way into this vehicle it was likely to die of loneliness. Giving up on the wilderness of the rear of the vehicle she turned her attention back to the front. The glove box held very little of interest either, a half eaten bar of chocolate that had gone squidgy in the general heat of the day, which she checked the sell by date on and, finding it still in date, promptly consumed the remaining candy, a few receipts, mainly for gas, nothing particularly interesting. To one side was a spare pair of sunglasses, the same brand that Horatio eternally wore, just for the hell of it Grace slipped them on, and tilted them down, looking over the top of the shades just as she had seen Horatio do several times. She giggled a little, realising how stupid she must look, and hurriedly shoved the shades back into the compartment. Right at the back, behind all the other junk she found a pair of handcuffs, clearly a spare set in case a scene required them, Grace made a mental note to remember exactly where they were for possible future use, but put them back hastily. Knowing that with her luck she'd manage to handcuff herself to the steering wheel or something and Horatio would suddenly realise that she was in fact a complete imbecile.

Her search of the glove compartment completed, in desperation Grace started to rummage under the seat, and her search was rewarded with a creased copy of a forensics journal. _Finally_, she thought, _something to read._

Grace reached the last article, and wished she'd left the damn magazine under the seat. How could anyone read that and not feel sick? There were articles on blood spatter, bullet penetration and some new technique on facial reconstruction. Rather than providing her with some sort of escapism every paragraph bought her thoughts firmly back to Sarah. What if they had to piece her back together from a pile of mush, what if, what if…Grace was starting to panic again, she bent forward holding her head between her knees and tried to take several long, deep breaths. Finally managing to calm herself down a little.

Grace dug in her purse and plucked out her wallet, poking her fingers into a tight slit in the lining she withdrew a small square of glossy paper. Four smiling faces grinned out at her from the photograph in her hands. Her parents crouched to either side of the picture, wearing some particularly embarrassing specimens of late seventies fashion, their arms hooked around the two little girls in the centre of the image, Sarah on the right and Grace the left. Both were dressed in pink dresses with opaque white tights and wore shiny pink shoes decorated with tiny bows. Their hair was pulled up into pigtails, blonde locks just tickling their shoulders and their faces lit up in huge grins. The two girls could be twins to look at them in the picture, except that Grace was just a little taller than her younger sibling. An unconscious smile came to Grace's face as she studied the picture intently.

The sisters had been virtually identical growing up, both had rosy complexions and honey blonde hair, their eye colour seemed to be the only variable between the two. Ordinarily, eye colour was relatively constant in families, the dominant gene of one parent determining those of their offspring, but some genetic quirk within the Turner family had given Grace her shining emerald green eyes and her sister blazing brown irises. Sarah's eyes weren't simply one shade of brown, but were streaked with a multitude of shades, so much so that it appeared that her eyes were on fire.

Grace's mind drifted back to a hot summer day in the middle of New York City, she could only have been about seven years old, Sarah must have been, what, five? The sisters were sitting on the steps leading up to their building licking at ice-cream cones, savouring the flavour of the sweet treat sliding down their throats, cooling them from the inside out. All of a sudden a car across the street backfired and Sarah jumped so violently that the scoop of ice-cream fell with a splat onto the baking hot steps. Sarah's eyes filled with tears, after all, to a five year old a lost ice-cream rated as a national disaster. Calmly, Grace had looked over at her sister, back at her own treat and had taken one last lick of her cone and handed it over to her little sister, stopping her tears from developing any further. The rapidly widening smile, peering through watery eyes was all the thanks that Grace had needed.

Her mind moved on, to a cooler day, it must've been Springtime because Grace remembered there had been a vase of flowers sitting in the window of her room. She had been confined to her bed, running a temperature and feeling generally quite sorry for herself with a cold. Sarah had been allowed to go out with a friend, a picnic in Central Park. Grace had wanted to go so much, but at the last minute had been denied the treat. She'd heard the click of the door as Sarah poked her head into the room later that day, her face red from being outside all such a long period of time. Seeing Grace was awake she had run into the room and presented her sister with a very wilted handful of daisies. Her determination not to lose a single one on her way home had led to her holding them so tightly in her hand that she'd crushed the stalks. But the sentiment was there. Grace still had one of those daisies, pressed and dried and kept amongst the pages of her favourite book.

Suddenly the tone of her memories changed, the sunshine was gone, the vision in front of her eyes now filled with a ceaseless rain. Grace at eighteen, Sarah sixteen. Now Sarah's hair was jet black and had been cut short, gelled into a spiky style. A silver stud adorned her nose and pale foundation, accented by dark eye shadow and lipstick gave her an almost ghostly appearance. A small tattoo, some sort of Celtic design, now sat on the younger sister's ankle. The two sisters stood across the room from each other trading insults and obscenities. Grace remembered the argument had been triggered when she had discovered her little sister's stash of ecstasy pills.

This memory was quickly replaced by another blazing row just a year or so later, the cause of this fight, however, was lost in the mists of time, the initial spark overshadowed by the lasting consequences. This had been the fight that Grace, caught up in the heat of the moment had told her sister that she was a slut, that she hated her and wished she'd never been born. She'd accused her of ruining her life. And twenty-four hours later Sarah had climbed onto a Greyhound bus bound for Miami and had disappeared out of her life, possibly forever. This was the fight that haunted Grace's sleep, the reason for the ever-present feeling of guilt that churned in her stomach.

What had gone so wrong? What had happened to the two little girls who went everywhere together, loved each other more than anything else?

The worst part about it was that their parents had seemed so relieved when Sarah had left. Their attempts to locate their second-born daughter always seemed to be so half-hearted, with no serious desire to see her safely reinstalled back in the family home. The atmosphere in the house was much calmer following her departure, but to Grace it had also seemed to be a little lonely, like a part of her soul had gone missing.

With a jolt, Grace realised that she'd been so wrapped up in her own little world that she hadn't even told her parents that she had managed to find Sarah, and now, she might have to tell them that she had found her and lost her again all in one go.

Grace sensed a movement out of the corner of her eye that bought her back out of her personal recollections with a bump. Peering through the rain that now fell from the sky she located Horatio's face lurking amongst the shadows of the building's entryway. She watched him run across to the Hummer and started firing questions at him before he'd even had time to pull open the door. She wasn't sure if he could even hear her through the thick auto-glass, but didn't care.

She knew deep inside that he wouldn't be able to tell her anything, but suddenly the two divided facets of her persona had reappeared. His denial that he knew exactly what was going on lit a small flame of anger deep in her chest, did he honestly think she was so dumb she wouldn't question his word. The phrase 'medium velocity spatter' made her heart skip a beat, and instantly her mind shot back to the gory details from the journal she'd been reading. He'd smiled at her when he'd identified the source of her new-found forensics knowledge. _Smiled_. Grace's powerful emotions fed the flame and the anger inside her grew. But as he spoke there was something so honest in his voice, in the way he looked at her that contradicted what her brain was telling her and Grace felt the knotted irritation inside of her ease and shrink.

"_Listen, there's nothing more I can tell you until all the information's gathered together for analysis. Ok?"_

She'd looked deep into his eyes and accepted his word. She could see that he was worried, not for himself, not for his team, not for the procedures and protocols of his job, but for _her_. The anger died to little more than a spark, and she forced a smile.

"_So, I guess dinner's off?"_

He'd looked mortified when he'd let the words escape from his mouth without engaging his brain first, clearly afraid of sounding too casual at such a sombre time. She'd had to suppress a giggle when she saw the look on his face, and a brief thought sparked across her mind wondering how her emotions could range so wildly in such a short period of time, from desolation to anger to laughter in just a few minutes. But right now was not the time to ponder such irregularities. Right now she wanted to provide some measure of comfort for the man that was obviously trying to do the same for her. She suspected that Horatio was eternally busy being someone's knight in shining armour, perhaps it was only right that on this occasion she should ride in and rescue him. She reached across and placed a hand on top of his, ignoring the fact that the warmth of his hand against her cold skin made her realise how cold she was.

"_Not necessarily." _

_To be continued…_


	14. Chapter 14

On his drive into work the next day Horatio ran the events from the previous evening through his head. Grace had asked if he would help her to start unpacking some of her things, which were still stored in crates and containers since she's just had them dumped in her new apartment and gone to find what had happened to her wayward sister. Anxious to gloss over his casual gaffe, Horatio had wholeheartedly agreed. He had called and cancelled the dinner reservations he'd made for them, and instead they'd sat next to each other on a sturdy cardboard packing box eating takeout Chinese food straight from the cartons. It was a somewhat subdued evening at first, neither really knowing what to say, but gradually they fell into companionable chatter and eventually easy laughter as they allowed the events of the day to drift to the back of their minds. Thinking back; Horatio remembered one conversation vividly.

"So you're still going to move down here then?" He'd questioned, Grace couldn't quite separate the emotions crossing his face, a changing expression that seemed to convey hope and worry all at the same time, edged with curiosity and just a hint of embarrassment.

"What do you mean?"

He stopped for a second, not really sure if he should bring up the subject of Sarah, for fear of lapsing back into the awkwardness of earlier.

"Well, I figured that maybe if Sarah wasn't here anymore you might reconsider your moving plans and decide to go back to New York."

"Well, even if…" it was going to take some effort for her to voice the worst-case scenario, and Grace changed the phrase from 'even if she's dead' at the last minute, not wanting to tempt fate, "even if Sarah did skip town, well I still have a really good reason for moving down here."

"Yeah, I guess working as the top photographer for a fashion house will be a great addition to your cv." He nodded his head, understandingly.

Grace's face flushed a little, and she looked at Horatio, wondering if she should really push her coy personality to one side for just a moment and voice her next comment. _What the heck_, she thought, _might as well go all in._

"You remember when I phoned to say I'd decided to take the job offer, I told you why I'd made the decision to move down to Miami? The three reasons?"

"Yeah, you wanted to get to know your sister again, the chance to develop your career, and…" he could feel the tingling on his skin that was a sure sign that he was turning red. He couldn't bring himself to say 'me'.

"Well it's the '_and…_' part of the sentence that's kinda my main reason for moving here now." She kept her head down, looking at the floor, afraid to look at him, nervous about how he'd react to this very forthright admission.

Horatio thought that, from the part of her face that he could actually see, he'd never seen someone turn that vibrantly red, that quickly before. He chuckled, and she looked up at him, surprised that her admission had elicited that kind of reaction. He explained the reason for his amusement, and she swatted him playfully on the arm, turning, if it was possible, an even more violent shade of red. He continued to observe her until she eventually raised her eyes to meet his once more.

"Come on Horatio, I'm out on a limb here, you gotta say…" She was silenced when Horatio leaned forward and did something he'd wanted desperately to do ever since he'd first met her, he placed his lips firmly on hers, "…something." She muttered into the kiss.

Her lips tasted of sweet and sour sauce, and there was a tingle on his own lips that Horatio debated was part of the passion of the moment or a trace of chilli oil from the takeout food. In his head he opted for the passion of the moment, a much more romantic notion than a condiment induced sensation.

Their task of unpacking boxes all but forgotten they had sat there side by side on their makeshift seat watching as the rain continued its fearsome onslaught, lashing at the palm trees that lined the beach outside the apartment block. Grace had fallen naturally into Horatio's arms, her head snuggled underneath his chin, his arms stretched around her; holding her close. In each others' presence, he realised, all the troubles in the world could be pressing in on them and they wouldn't notice a thing.

The memory provided Horatio with a warm glow as he parked the Hummer in one of the spaces outside the MDPD building. He found a skip in his step and a happy whistle on his lips as he walked up the steps that led into the main entrance.

Officer Paula Muro looked around the entrance hall to the MDPD from her position behind the desk. Who the hell was whistling? It was way too early in the morning for someone to be that happy. She shook her head when she realised that the noise that was currently assaulting her eardrums was coming from the normally solemn Lieutenant Caine, wondering if she was mistaken and the sound was actually some warped kind of tinnitus she shook her head. Nope, Caine was definitely walking through the lobby whistling, she could see his lips were pursed. _That_, she thought, _is not normal_.

"Morning, Paula."

"Um, morning Lieutenant."

"Any messages for me?"

Paula handed Horatio the pile of messages and he thanked her as he wandered off, quickly flicking through the notes. Paula decided that today would be a good day to catch up with some of the office gossip from Calleigh Duquesne.

Horatio glanced at his watch as he walked into his office and sat down at his desk. He was early, as usual, and the rest of the team wouldn't be in for at least another hour. He tossed the pile of messages down onto the table, just requests from journalists each wanting a sound bite for their stories on cases that were going to trial this month. His early start to the working day served a purpose, Horatio used this time to catch up on the mountain of paperwork that appeared on his desk on a daily basis in an attempt to clear the decks before another frantic day had the chance to put him behind on his reports. This morning though, Horatio stared at the pile of paperwork sitting idly in his in-box and groaned, what he really wanted to do was to lean back in his chair and continue reliving the enjoyable events of the evening before. Unfortunately it wasn't to be and Horatio forced himself to pick up his pen and flip open the cover on the crime scene report that was sitting on the top of the pile.

That's where Calleigh found him when she got into the lab an hour later, scanning a page of typed text, initialling and annotating the occasional phrase.

"Mornin'" Calleigh's greeting was as jovial as usual. She placed a steaming mug of coffee on the desk in front of him. Horatio leaned back and blinked his eyes trying to refocus on something that wasn't text.

"Hey." He yawned and picked up the mug, taking a sip and sighing, "Ah, that's better."

"You ready for a powwow in the layout room to go over yesterday's scene?"

"And leave the paperwork? I don't know, I'll have to think about it." He had stood up and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair before he'd even finished the sarcastic comment.

"Ok guys, so what did we get?" Horatio asked his first question as he was walking through the door, taking Eric and Ryan by surprise so that they stopped bickering with each other and both started relaying their results at the same time. Horatio stopped them with a chuckle and prompted Eric to go first.

"I took casts from the tool mark impressions in the door, there are no unique markings on the weapon used to break in, no identifying features. I also lifted a boot print from the bottom panel of the door." Eric rolled his chair over to the table and sifted through a stack of photographs that sat neatly on the light table. He pulled out one image that showed the impression of a boot print and handed it to Horatio.

"Ran the impression through the computer and got a match to a brand." Eric picked up another sheet of paper and handed it over.

"Harley Davidson motorcycle boot?"

"Yep. The unfortunate thing is that they're about as common as a cold, so it's not going to marrow down our search field a whole lot. It does have a pretty unique wear pattern, but that's not going to help us unless we've got something to compare it to."

"Hmm. Didn't any of the neighbours hear anything from the break-in? The damage to that door wasn't done quietly."

"Strangely, all the neighbours seem to have become deaf all of a sudden according to the officers that went door to door, no-one heard anything."

"Ah," Horatio understood perfectly, "it's a neighbourhood affliction. Live in that part of town and you soon learn that when it comes to the authorities you need to be deaf, dumb and blind, or someone'll put a bullet through your window, or worse, your skull. Ok, so there's no eye-witness testimony. Mr Wolfe how did you do with prints?"

"Not much better I'm afraid H. Lifted loads of prints from surfaces in the apartment. They all come back to the prints from Sarah Turner's criminal record, every single damn one of them."

"Isn't that a bit strange? I mean surely there should be at least one foreign print present." Calleigh commented from where she was perched on a table at the edge of the room.

"Well, the scene wasn't wiped down, if that's what you're getting at, if it was they would've wiped away Sarah's prints too, and I found examples on pretty much every surface I dusted."

"PD questioned some of Sarah's colleagues from the strip club, see if she told anyone she was leaving town. She hadn't told them anything about moving away or any particular trouble she was in, but they did say that she was pretty private. Never let any boyfriends know where she lived…"

"So she'd always have a safe place to come home to if things got rough." Horatio finished Delko's point. "Grace said something about Sarah being cautious with who she allowed to know where she lived. She hadn't even taken Grace back to see her place yet. Yesterday was the first time she'd been up there."

"That explains why we didn't find Grace's prints at the scene, I'd been wondering about that." Ryan looked sheepishly towards Horatio.

Horatio realised that they'd been stepping carefully in their run-throughs, wondering how far they could push the analytical process in his presence. He had already noticed a slight difference in the language they'd been using to address the case. Where they would normally use the term 'victim' or 'subject' he realised his team had carefully substituted in her name, calling her Sarah was their way of saying 'if she means something to you, then she's important to us too.' He appreciated it, but he wanted to let them know that no matter what his involvement in the case they should treat the scene like any other.

"Guys, no matter whether I have a personal interest in this case or not, we treat it like any other scene. There's no need to dumb down the evidence, I'm a big boy now. Ok?" A round of relieved sighs signalled that the message had been received loud and clear. "So we got a bust on tool marks and prints, did trace give us anything Calleigh?"

"Sorry Horatio, but it's zero for three. Trace came up empty, blood spatter on the walls and clothes is the subject's, no foreign DNA was identified."

"But at least the blood spray tells us something."

"What?"

"Someone knew where she lived."

"Yeah I guess, but there's no definite evidence from that apartment to prove that she was taken against her will. Doors could have been forced in a bungled burglary, blood spray on the wall could've been there for days or even weeks. My gut's telling me there's more to it, but we just don't have any proof that anything more sinister occurred here than she skipped town." Horatio knew he could always rely on Calleigh not to mince her words and come straight to the point.

"Yep, I agree. I still think there's something more here, but at the moment we've just got no evidence to back it up. But I'm gonna get a uniform team to watch the club, just in case she turns up there, and put out a missing person bolo. Thanks for your work on this guys, I appreciate it."

This was taken as a signal that the briefing, like the case, was over, and each investigator slid off their stools, or in Calleigh's case the worktop, and headed back to their respective stations to continue processing evidence from other open cases.

Horatio sat there in the empty room for a few minutes longer, the light from the table casting strange shadows on the walls. He flicked through the copies of reports that his team had left for him, he agreed with Calleigh, his gut too was telling him that something happened here, but with no physical evidence to follow he had no justifiable reason to open an investigation at the taxpayers expense. He glared intensely at the photographs of the scene as if willing them to produce some as yet unnoticed clue, but nothing stood out. Horatio felt slighted, the evidence had never let him down before.

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The next few days passed in a blur of contentment for Horatio. He had explained the results of their investigation to Grace, and she had taken the news a lot better than he had expected her to. When he'd related the verdict to her she'd simply shrugged her shoulders in a manner that suggested that she'd been expecting something like that. She seemed to accept the possibility that Sarah had simply skipped town and had not deemed Grace an important enough part of her life to explain where or why she'd gone. She had been a little reserved in her manner for a few hours, and then the Grace that he knew, full of life, seemed to have returned.

_To be continued…_


	15. Chapter 15

His next day off was spent with Grace at the beach, she was shocked by how anyone who lived in a city so obsessed by its beaches could hardly ever have spent any time at all on the fine white sands. When he thought about it Horatio was quite embarrassed when he realised that he'd actually spent more time on the beach at crime scenes; digging up bodies or dealing with rape cases than he'd actually spent there relaxing. Perhaps that was something he'd have to remedy.

Grace pushed her way through the surf feeling the strong current trying to pull her back, one arm thrusting forward as the other pulled back moving her through the water with a graceful ease that belied the powerful undercurrent. When she was close enough in to the shore she pulled her legs in under her and found her footing, starting her walk back to the beach. Grace could feel the gritty texture of the sand oozing between her toes as she walked, and felt the water swishing around her legs as the wave washed back to the sea ready for its next onslaught. She had always found that a weird sensation, striding forward watching the water and sand rushing backwards feeling the water's pull luring her back into the waves. She looked up and saw Horatio propped up under a sun shade, his eyes were covered by his sunglasses, but she had no doubt that he was looking at her.

Horatio watched as Grace emerged from the foaming surf and began to walk up the beach. The muscles of her toned body flexing as she moved. He'd watched as she'd dived fearlessly into the waves easily pulling herself along with strong strokes, she was like a fish in the water. Now, as she walked towards him Horatio was transfixed, completely unable to take his eyes off her, he couldn't help but think that she was easily the most beautiful woman on the beach, and she didn't need a flashy bikini that hardly left anything to the imagination to achieve it, Grace's simple one-piece swimsuit adequately flattered her athletic frame, making his mind wander to a dangerous place to go whilst in public. He cleared his throat and tried to erase the image he'd just pictured from his mind.

"Hey." Grace greeted him as she let herself fall into the soft sand next to Horatio.

"Hey." Up close he could see that the water had clung to her hair, changing it from its usual golden colour to a darker, browner shade. Horatio noticed that her skin was raised in goose bumps as the water evaporated from the surface of her skin making a shiver roll over her body. Horatio looped a towel around her shoulders and rubbed the fabric over her skin to try and eradicate the excess liquid. With the towel still wrapped around her, he pulled her back until she was leaning on him, his arms wrapped around her, she tilted her head back.

"You'll get wet." She warned, and as if to illustrate her point a droplet of water dripped off her hair and splashed onto his t-shirt, soaking into the cotton material instantly.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take." He shrugged and laughed.

The vibrations from his laugh and his deep voice reverberated through Grace's body making her shudder. Thinking the shiver was caused by her feeling cold Horatio tightened his grip around her. He kissed the top of her head as he held her, the sea water leaving a salty residue on his lips. Eventually his grasp loosened and Grace sat forward retrieving a bottle of sun lotion from her small beach bag, she proffered the bottle to Horatio, who took the hint and squirted some of the cream into his palm and began to spread it over her shoulders, massaging it into any part of her back that would come into contact with the fierce Miami sun, the smell of coconut drifted up from her back, and he surreptitiously inhaled deeply drinking in the heady scent.

"Mmm." Grace sighed as Horatio's hands worked over her skin, his hands seemed to know exactly which areas to concentrate on to make her completely relax. Her eyes slid shut and she imagined his hands moving under the material of her swimsuit, moving up her torso and over her breasts…Grace opened her eyes with a jerk and flinched. Horatio paused in his progress over her shoulders.

"You ok?"

"Erm, yeah, I think I just, um, fell asleep for a second." She blushed.

Horatio chuckled, and Grace had a horrible feeling that he knew perfectly well that she hadn't fallen asleep, and that he knew exactly what had been going through her mind.

Grace had laughed when he'd pulled his own bottle of sunscreen with a ridiculously high spf out.

"What? I burn easily, it's the Irish blood in me."

In response she'd leaned over and given him a quick kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Poor baby."

She'd laughed at him as he'd squirted the cream onto his skin, making him turn, if it was possible, an even paler shade, but Horatio also noticed that throughout the day she'd checked the position of the sun shade, and as the sun had moved round had repositioned it to make sure that he was always shaded, her concern for his comfort was, he realised, incredibly cute. They'd spent the remainder of the day like that, Grace lying back on Horatio's chest listening to the dull, regular thud of his heartbeat as the chatted about anything and everything, swapping happy memories from their childhoods, entertaining stories, and just general titbits of information that allowed them to get to know each other that much better.

Later that evening, after the heat of the afternoon was dying away and the sun gradually slid beyond the horizon they picked up takeout from a Cuban restaurant that Horatio loved. They took the cartons back to Grace's apartment and ate their food sitting on the balcony listening to the waves washing soothingly onto the shoreline below them. After they'd discarded the remnants of their meal, they returned to their spot on the balcony, Horatio's arm holding her close to his side. He heard her sigh and whisper something that he couldn't quite hear.

"What did you say?"

"I said that I wished this moment would last forever."

He turned to face her and with one hand gently traced the contours of her face, his shoulders leaned closer, bringing him so close he cold feel her warm breath against his skin. Their lips brushed gently for a second, before pressing closer in a more desperate embrace.

Suddenly a shrill ringing filled the air, and Horatio's pocket began to vibrate as his cell phone leapt into life. He groaned into the kiss. _What did I do to deserve this?_ He thought. Grace giggled and remained wrapped tightly around him as he fished the slimline silver gadget out of his pocket, flipped it open and lifted it to his ear.

"Caine…Uh-huh…MmmHmm…Where?" He sighed, "Ok, I'll be there." He tilted his head down to look at Grace. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I gotta go."

"Duty calls?"

"Duty calls." He nodded, and giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head, pulled himself into a standing position. Grace followed him to the door, when he had released the catch and pulled the door halfway open she called his name bringing his attention back to her.

"Horatio."

He turned and she cupped her hands around his face and pulled him into a deep kiss that seemed to last for hours, they both came up breathing deeply, gasping for air.

"Just something so you won't forget me." She chuckled.

"Not a chance." With that last comment he walked out of the door into the darkness.

_To be continued…_

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_A/N – Ok, so I know there's not very much substance in this instalment, but it's more of a linking chapter leading up to something a bit more dramatic in the next bit (ooh, now I've got you wondering). Besides, you can never have too much fluff!_


	16. Chapter 16

The Hummer jerked to a halt as Horatio reached his destination. He was glad that he always carried a spare set of clothes in the Hummer in case he encountered anything particularly nasty at a crime scene, he could just imagine the look on his team's faces if he had turned up in his casual beach wear of a t-shirt and khaki pants. He'd stopped briefly and quickly changed into a pair of dark pants and a shirt, hoping desperately that no-one had seen him, before restarting his drive to the scene. Grace's parting gift had left a deep impression, and no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept drifting back to those few seconds and a goofy grin started to spread over his face. _Pull yourself together_, he intoned inwardly in a desperate attempt to make his brain comply, but no sooner was the thought in his head than it vanished, once again replaced by the sensory memory of Grace's kiss.

From the colossal concrete structure that loomed above his head the sound of roaring engines and beeping horns drifted down. The dispatch operator had directed him to this point just underneath the North-South Expressway where the road crossed the Miami River. Even though it was pretty much dark now; the traffic on the Expressway was audibly steady, one of the city's arteries carrying people to and from their destinations.

It was not a pleasant location, all sorts of rubbish had drifted with the river's current which had deposited clumps of household trash and general detritus along the river's edge. Here, underneath the Expressway was no different, Horatio could pick out the outline of a shopping cart, several milk cartons and a few more natural objects such as tree branches as well as a plethora of other man-made, or at least man-deposited items. The smell was that of general decay, as the river's hoard gradually broke down on its journey back to mother earth. But tonight there was something more sinister in the air, along with the ever-present odour of festering trash there was an undercurrent that bought with it a sickly sweet hint of putrid flesh, human flesh.

A shout from behind made him turn around.

"H."

Eric Delko strode up to his boss.

"Eric, what've we got?"

"I'm not too sure myself, H. Dispatch just said body dump."

They both looked over in the direction that they could hear voices coming from.

"Then I guess we'd better go and find out."

As the pair of CSIs walked further under the Expressway, their eyes gradually became more accustomed to the gloom and they began to pick out figures milling around in a group by the waters edge. They also detected a non-too-subtle Texan drawl which told them that the main detective for the case was going to be Frank Tripp. When they'd first started working cases with the robust Texan; Frank's bullish, impatient manner had grated with the CSI team, but as they'd got to understand each other better the team had to admit that there was no-one that they'd rather work with. Frank could still be a little impatient at times, standing over the investigators as they worked processing evidence in the lab expecting the 'mass-spectra-thingy', as he called it, to spit out its results in thirty seconds rather than the hours that it usually took to run a sample, but he was also fiercely protective of his colleagues, there was no doubt that he would lay down his life in a heartbeat in order to save one of the team. His sarcastic sense of humour also served to move the process along a little quicker, his sour quips had a habit of catching you off-guard which simply served to peak the humour value.

"Well it's about time you lab rats got here. I thought I was gonna be coolin ma heels all night waitin for you t'show up."

"Long time no see Frank." Horatio chuckled in response to the detective's booming greeting.

"Yeah, the brass had me workin with the night shift on that gang-shooting. And I thought you lot were weird. Jeez, The night shift's got the monopoly on weird." He rolled his eyes and blew air out from between his pursed lips making a quiet whistling sound. "So anyhow, you gonna pull out one of your fancy gadgets and start with the processing, or are we gonna be here all night?"

"Cool it Frank, this stuff takes time." It was Delko that replied.

"Then you better get goin', 'cause I got court in the mornin' and if I get bitched at for lookin like a wreck I'm sendin the prosecutor after you."

Delko smirked.

"Who's prosecuting?"

"Bailey. So you better hope I'm fresh as a daisy."

Serena Bailey was a well known face around the Miami-Dade justice system, a vicious county prosecutor for more than fifteen years, she could intimidate the hell out of most people. Horatio admired her for her dedication to the truth. Unlike most prosecutors, it wasn't just about winning, for Bailey it was about making sure that Justice was served and that the right criminal was punished for the crime.

"Well, if we find you dead tomorrow Frank we can pretty much narrow it down to a suspect list that includes Bailey right at the top." Delko sent the comment winging over his shoulder as he turned to process the scene.

"Very reassuring." Frank muttered.

Delko picked up the hefty camera and started taking wide-angle shots before zooming in on details of the scene. After he'd covered the position of the body from the concrete edge of the river, he shed his outer clothes revealing a toned and muscular frame coated in the rubber-latex material of his wetsuit. A former underwater recovery expert, Delko was just as comfortable processing a scene in the water as he was on dry land. In order to avoid disturbing the scene before he took photographs he walked a short distance away from the location of the corpse before sitting on the side of the river and gently sliding into the not so fragrant waters.

Joking aside, Horatio and Frank turned to the business of the crime scene.

"So who called it in?"

"Couple o' kids found the body. Said they were…" he flipped to a page in his notebook, "…taking a walk." Frank kept his head tilted down and looked at Horatio through his eyebrows. "If y'ask me they were looking for something to steal, break or cover in spray paint. They were pokin around in the crap floatin in the water, one of em poked somethin fleshy, turned out to be a foot. Woman's by the look of it. Body's mostly wrapped in a heavy duty plastic sack, just the feet sticking out. We waited til you guys got here to move the body, we got no ID yet cause we can't see the face."

"Ok Frank, lets find out who she is."

"About damn time."

"Eric. You happy with the over-all and close-up shots you've got?" Horatio shouted over to Delko, who had just climbed out of the water.

"Yep, I got plenty of covering shots, we can recreate this scene down to the last twig if the defence lawyer wants to be pedantic about it."

Horatio nodded, satisfied. He gave Frank a thumbs-up, who in turn yelled to the body haulers.

"Ok, let's get this movin'."

As the body was pulled out of the water the plastic bag that was covering it snagged on a piece of trash lodged firmly in the riverbank. The plastic ripped prompting a shout from Eric.

"Whoa, we need the plastic as undamaged as possible, it might have trace on it."

The operation was paused while the plastic was unhooked. Once this was complete the body haulers started to pull the corpse out of the water again, managing to get it onto the bank without any more mishaps. As they rolled the body over the section of plastic that had been ripped in the body's extrication from the water flapped open revealing flesh…flesh covered with an intricate phoenix design that Horatio had seen once before.

"Oh no." He briefly dropped his head down and closed his eyes.

"H?" Horatio's comment had not gone unnoticed, and Eric looked questioningly at his boss.

"That's Sarah Turner. She is, _was_, Grace's sister."

The silence stretched out between the group. It was a curse that those working in the emergency services dealt with every working day, the odds were that eventually you would end up dealing with a victim that you knew. The body haulers knew that today the red-haired Lieutenant had been dealt the soul destroying blow, and they respected the severity of the situation with a sombre silence, knowing that tomorrow it might be them who pulled back the plastic on a corpse and found a friend or relative concealed beneath. It was Eric the spoke first.

"The girl whose apartment we processed?"

"Uh-huh. There was more to it than just a B and E like we thought."

Horatio knelt down next to the body, feeling the rough, gravely surface digging into the skin of his knee, but the pain didn't register properly, all he could think of was how he was going to tell Grace.

"Eric, we need to get the body back to Alexx as soon as possible. Can you handle it from here for a while? There's something I have to do."

"Sure, H. No problem." Eric nodded reassuringly at his boss, guessing where he was headed.

As Horatio turned to walk away from the group Eric came striding after him.

"H, give her a hug from me, k?"

"Thanks Eric. I will." Horatio placed a hand briefly on Delko's shoulder to show his gratitude for the sentiment.

Of course Eric knew what it was like to lose a sibling. Horatio's heart fluttered a little as he thought of Marisol's smiling face. Eric and Mari had always been so close, and when she had been killed by a Noche sniper Horatio thought that the younger CSI might never recover from the grief. He had been surprised that after her death Eric had hardly shown him any resentment at all, after all, Horatio blamed himself implicitly for her death, if he hadn't married her then perhaps, just perhaps she would still be with them today. It was Eric who had spoken openly and honestly to his boss and brother-in-law, halting his descent after Horatio had begun a spiral into despair after they had interred Marisol's lifeless body in the ground. It had been Eric who had told him that he had never seen his sister so happy as he had in the months that she had spent with Horatio, and Eric who had simply told him that life was too short to dwell on the 'what ifs', that if you did that you'd never get out of bed each day.

Now as the image of Marisol's smiling face faded in his mind, it was replaced by Grace's smiling visage, and the pain in his heart doubled. Now another 'what if' appeared in his mind, what if she could never forgive him for failing to protect her sister?

How could he even begin to tell her?

_To be continued…_


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N – Yep, we're back to angst (if you're not a fan of angst cover your eyes, this instalment's packed with it) but stick with it, on the other side of all that angst there's a whole lot of fluffy stuff yet to come– I promise! _

_TenFour – I just love Frank, he's such a great character._

_Glad you're all still enjoying the ride._

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This was the worst part of the job, something that Horatio had never gotten used to doing, no matter how many times the bastards of the world made him do it. Telling family members that they would never see their loved ones again, never hear their voices laughing or singing or crying, never hold their hand or kiss them goodnight was the most repugnant task he could imagine. In some rare cases the knowledge that he divulged could be a kind of blessing, for families who had reported sons and daughters missing, who had waited years to find out the truth, to be able to identify remains and give their families a body to mourn provided closure of a sort, yes, it proved their worst nightmares true and ended all hope of ever seeing their loved one again, but on the other hand, it also ended the excruciating, heart-breaking fear, the uncertainty and the doubt. But that wasn't the case here, there would be no closure with this case, and as Horatio looked into Grace's eyes, he understood that being the one to break the news to someone you knew, damn it, someone you _loved_ was even more difficult than anything he had ever experienced before.

Because after a great deal of soul searching he was now able to admit to himself that he was falling in love with the woman sitting in front of him, he knew that what he was about to tell her would break her heart and he would have done anything to prevent her from experiencing the emotional pain that he had felt after he had held Ray's dying body in his arms, and seen the life quickly fade from Marisol's eyes.

He'd driven back to Grace's apartment, his head full of fog, not knowing how he was even going to start this conversation. When he'd buzzed up she had taken her time answering, her voice cautious.

"Hello?"

"Grace honey, it's me."

"Horatio?" She'd made a noise that he could only describe as an excited squeak, and despite himself, he grinned. "I didn't think I'd see you again today. You clear the scene already?"

"Not exactly, it's still being processed. Grace sweetheart, can you buzz me in, I need to tell you something."

When she'd opened the door to him she'd been wearing sweat-pants and a t-shirt that was way too big for her. She looked cute. Horatio had refused to tell her everything right there and then as she'd demanded, but instead steered her over to the couch and sat her down.

Horatio sat on the low coffee table in front of her and leant his elbows on his knees, his hands occupied with turning his sunglasses over and over, head bowed. Grace leant forward and laid her small hands on his, halting his motion. She took the shades and placed them on the table, and turning back to face him she returned her hands to his. He studied her hands, so small and soft compared to his own calloused fingers.

"Horatio? What's wrong?"

"Grace, sweetheart, I've got some bad news." He sighed. "The callout I got earlier, the body they found, I knew who she was."

"Oh God, Horatio that's terrible. Are you ok?"

"Sshh Grace, just listen. You gotta listen to me." He took a last deep breath before ploughing on. "Grace honey, it was Sarah."

"What do you mean?" The message hadn't penetrated her mind. Her brain had heard his words, processed them and then rejected the meaning it had derived, refusing to acknowledge what he had said.

"Grace, it was Sarah's body they pulled out of the Miami River. I'm sorry sweetheart, but she's dead."

"No, no, no." Grace swung her head sharply from side to side. "No, you don't know what you're saying, it's not true. You haven't even met her properly, you only met her once. You can't know it was her." Denial. Next would come acceptance and following hot on it's heels would be the soul destroying pain that Horatio was only too familiar with.

As Horatio studied her face he could see that the spark that always played just behind Grace's eyes, the life in her expression that always gave her a sparkle had vanished. He knew the feeling, like someone had stuck their fist into your chest and ripped out your still-beating heart.

"Oh God, oh God no." Grace pulled her hands away from him. And as he tried to reach out towards her she shrugged his hand away.

"I'm sorry Gracie." There was nothing else he could think to say. Horatio had dealt with so many families, their hearts breaking with their losses, and he seemed to know what to say, but now, when it was most important to be able to calm the situation, to offer the right words, his vocabulary seemed to have deserted him. All he could do was sit and watch as her heart broke right in front of him.

An age passed in the silent void before he managed to form a sentence in his mind.

"You…you want to go see her?"

"Mm-hmm." She nodded, the movement of her head barely perceptible. Her eyes starting to well up with tears that threatened to burst their banks and run a river down her face, and when they finally did she made no effort to wipe them away.

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It seemed cold in the morgue, colder than Horatio had ever felt it before. This is what they go through, he thought. He'd seen family members bought into the viewing room shivering, and while he'd always empathised with them, he himself had only ever experienced it for himself once before, when Alexx had wheeled in the gurney that had held Tim Speedle's body. On the other, far too frequent, occasions when people close to him had died Alexx had intervened, banning him from the morgue, knowing what seeing the body of a loved one laid out on the metal table could do to a person's spirit. With Speed it had been different; Alexx herself was overcome with grief, allowing Horatio to be there simply because she didn't have the strength to send him away as she began to cut open the chest cavity of her best friend. Now Grace was going to go through the same thing as he had, he would do anything to help her avoid this situation, but protocol called for someone to identify the body, in this case, that person had to be Grace.

They'd waited in his office for a couple of hours until Alexx had had time to finish her autopsy and clean the body up a bit before it could be viewed. Grace still wouldn't let him touch her, even to hold her hand, so they'd sat in silence, Horatio still lost for words. Although he didn't really think that there were any words on earth that could provide any kind of comfort to Grace right now. He hoped that just being there would help her.

Now, he guided Grace into the room, at least she didn't shy away from his touch any more, perhaps that was a good sign, or perhaps like Alexx when Speedle had been killed, she had simply lost the will to fight. Ahead of them was a gurney, a sheet covering the body that lay on its cold surface. Alexx stood to one side, her face set in a concerned expression. She was studying Horatio just as much as she was studying Grace, wondering how the seemingly emotionally invincible supervisor would handle the situation.

"You ready sugar?" She was still looking in Horatio's direction, but there was no doubt that the question was directed towards Grace, who simply nodded numbly in response. Alexx pulled the sheet back just enough to reveal the head and shoulders of the body concealed beneath but not drawing it down far enough to reveal the fresh Y incision that she had created during her autopsy, and Grace drew in a ragged breath. She started to shake uncontrollably and Horatio felt her body sag. He caught her just as her knees collapsed, turned her and hugged her tightly to his chest. Horatio lifted his head and nodded at Alexx, managing a weak smile of thanks to the coroner. She replaced the sheet over the corpse and walked out of the room leaving Horatio and Grace alone amongst the dead.

As she spoke she remained perfectly still in his grip, looking down at the floor.

"How?"

"Huh?"

"How did she die?"

"You sure you want to know?"

"Horatio, if you were in my place would you want to know?"

He nodded, understanding her point.

"She was shot twice."

"Was she in pain? Did she suffer?"

"No, first bullet hit her heart and the second pierced the back of her skull. She was gone in seconds."

Grace pushed herself back, away from Horatio, but scared she might fall, he kept hold of her.

"Let me go Horatio."

"Grace…"

"Let me go." Her body shook with a wracking sob. "I don't want to be with anyone right now."

"Sweetheart, I really don't think…"

"Let me go!" It was more yelled than spoken, the phrase echoing around the otherwise silent morgue, the sound bouncing off the clinical stainless steel surfaces and she beat her fist against his chest. The sudden attack startled him more than anything and in surprise he loosened his grip, she staggered for a few paces, then found her footing and ran out of the room. Dazed with her sudden departure he stood there for a seconds before forcing his muscles to work and running after her. By the time he reached the main entrance she was nowhere to be seen. He whispered a curse under his breath and slowly walked out.

_To be continued…_


	18. Chapter 18

In the silence of his apartment Horatio could hear steady footfalls in the corridor outside, a constant tapping and creaking. He walked over to the door and peered out of the peephole. Nothing but a neutral, cream coloured wall was visible on the other side of the corridor. Thinking he must've been mistaken, that he was starting to hear things, Horatio wandered away from the door and allowed himself to fall into the soft, beige coloured couch. Picking up a remote control he pointed it at the music centre tucked in an alcove in the corner of the room and a soft, mellow, somewhat melancholy note rang out, reverberating around the room cutting through the silence. Horatio leant back and closed his eyes letting the gentle jazz melody lull his soul into a partially relaxed state. The footsteps slowed and stopped and there was a light tapping at the door. He opened his eyes and groaned quietly, he just wanted to sit here, relax and at least try to get a full night sleep. Another knock, a little louder this time. Whoever it was, it didn't look like they were going to go away. He raised himself up off the couch and retraced his recent path over to the doorway. He slid the catch open and pulled the door inwards.

Grace stood in front of him, her head bowed. Horatio reached forward and placed a finger under her chin, raising her head so that he could look directly at her face, but Grace's eyes remained resolutely shut. Her eyes were red and puffy, make-up smudges around her eyes gave the quirky, over the top look of a fashion model.

"Grace." He whispered her name, and she finally looked up at him. The whites of her eyes were punctuated with a myriad of tiny red veins. "I thought you wanted to have some alone time."

Her lips pursed into a tight smile, a smile that didn't extend to her eyes.

"Yeah, I tried the whole alone thing. Found out that it sucks." She sniffed, and a tear drop rolled a slow slalom down her cheek, marking its path with a wet trail. Horatio reached up and wiped it away with his thumb.

"I didn't know where else to go."

"C'mon." He stepped aside, putting an arm gently around her shoulders and guiding her into the apartment.

She let him direct her to the couch that he'd been sitting on just moments before. He disappeared for a second and when he returned he was holding a glass with a small measure of brown liquid, he handed her the glass and helped her to tip a small amount of the liquid into her mouth.

Grace could feel it sliding down her throat, the alcohol burning a little, but also bringing a warmth to her insides as it hit her stomach. Suddenly she was aware just how cold she felt and she shivered. Horatio sat down next to her, taking the glass away and placing it on the floor. Then he stretched his arms around her and pulled her towards his body, his right hand cupping the back of her head, holding it in place under his chin, where she began to cry, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. He held her like that until her sobs died away. He loosened his grip, but she remained in place, snuggled close in his warmth.

"It's ok."

She drew back sharply as he spoke his whispered phrase. She stood up, towering over his seated figure, her expression wildly different from a second ago, as she shouted.

"No. It's not. It's never going to be ok again. Don't say that, you don't understand."

"Yes I do." His response was almost whispered and he dropped his head as he spoke.

"Don't patronise me Horatio. You don't understand."

Horatio sighed.

"Do you remember that first day, at the café, I told you I knew what it was like to lose someone you love?"

"Yes, but…"

He remained in his seated position on the couch, but pulled her down so she was sitting on the coffee table in front of him and placed a finger to her lips, halting her speech.

"Ssh, just listen. Several years ago my brother, Raymond, was killed in an undercover narcotics operation. He was shot. We argued a lot before that, never really saw eye-to-eye, y'know? But no matter how much we argued he was my brother and I loved him. Getting the news was one of the worst days of my life."

Grace took a breath, as if she was about to speak. Horatio shook his head, and she was persuaded to remain silent.

"Last year, while I was working a case I found some things that meant Ray could still be alive. The guy that I had arrested for his murder was allowed back on the streets. I found out that as part of a Federal investigation Ray had to fake his own death so that he could go deep undercover. Apparently I wasn't the only one to work it out, and the gang that he was targeting used his son, my nephew, to lure Ray out of hiding. It worked. When you met Sarah at the club that night for the first time in years, you felt so happy you thought you could fly right? Imagine thinking she was dead for years. Imagine how I felt when I saw him again. I got to spend an hour with him, Grace, one hour, and then I had to put him on a plane to Brazil. The next time I saw him he'd been beaten so badly that he died in my arms." Horatio lifted his hands in front of him as if to illustrate the point and his voice cracked with emotion. He cleared his throat and tried to continue. "They'd strung him up from the roof, I had to cut him down and watch as the last remnants of life drained out of him. So you see Grace, I do understand what you're going through, I've been there and I want to be there to help you now, if you'll just let me."

Her eyes were wide with the realisation that this man sitting in front of her genuinely did know what she was going through.

"Oh God Horatio, I'm sorry. I didn't…I couldn't…I'm so sorry." She leaned forward, placing her hands around Horatio's interwoven fingers. He paused to study them before looking up at her, catching her gaze, and staring deep into her eyes.

"You were right though." His voice was quiet, almost a growl as her spoke.

"What?"

"When you said 'it's never going to be alright again', you were right. It's always with you, you can't forget it, ever. You just…you just find ways of coping with it."

A single tear rolled down his face and Grace moved forwards from her sitting position on the coffee table, kneeling on the ground in order to be closer to him. Her shoulders between his knees, she reached up and wiped the tear away with her hand before cupping her hands around the sides of his head and pulling him down to meet her upturned face, her lips hovered close to his, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from her. The unexpected move caught him by surprise, and at first he didn't respond, finally, forcing his brain and muscles to overcome his shock and work in unison he bent his head down the required millimetres, their lips locking in a passionate kiss, fuelled by the aftermath of such emotional revelations.

They'd known each other for a few months now, and while they'd shared dinners and days off in each others company, Horatio's natural cautiousness and his ever-gentlemanly attitude had prevented him from pushing the relationship further until he was sure that they both wanted the same thing. So he was somewhat relieved to find that with this kiss his feelings for the woman in front of him were being returned in at least equal measure. But at the same time he worried that this sudden development was nothing more than an emotional outpouring due to the extreme events that had preceded it.

Breaking the kiss briefly, Grace's hands moved from his face, and fingers now almost frantically fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, her intentions clear. Horatio placed his hands on her hands, halting her progress as she worked at undoing the fourth button. She looked up at him, puzzled.

"Horatio?" Her eyes were full of pain, but right now, he couldn't work out whether it was from the loss of her sister or from what she may see as rejection from his actions. He couldn't deny that he wanted her, wanted to kiss every single inch of her body, to give himself to her completely, but at the same time he wanted that moment to come from passion and love, not as a form of escapism.

"Grace, I don't think we…listen, when…I mean if…It's not as if I…" He stopped. Trying to gather the right words and put them in the right order. "I think if we do this now you're going to wake up in the morning and you'll regret it. And Grace? I don't want you to regret anything." The last phrase was whispered, but loud enough that she heard every word and full of a sincerity that made her completely understand what he meant.

She thought about it, coming to her senses before nodding in agreement. She understood what he was saying, and realised that he was right. She allowed herself to be pulled up from her kneeling position on the floor and sat on the couch next to Horatio. Lifting her feet onto the sofa alongside her she lay down, her head resting in Horatio's lap. He leaned back and settled into the comfortable fabric, his hand stroking her hair, as he tried to purge the lustful thoughts from his mind, she was, after all in a position where she could hardly miss his body's reactions to mental stimulation. He heard her breathing becoming calmer and more regular and heard her whisper.

"Thank-you." He smiled and shushed her.

Just before the waves of sleep finally pulled them both into unconsciousness Horatio heard her whisper something else, almost inaudible, barely a sound, but he was certain that it wasn't his imagination, to him it sounded a lot like, "I love you."

_To be continued…_

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_A/N – Well that was a whole topsy-turvy mix up of angst and fluff wasn't it!_

_Altogether now: "Ahhhhhhhhhhh…."_

_I hope you're all still enjoying it!!_


	19. Chapter 19

Horatio had been torn between what to do. On one hand he'd wanted to slip away as soon as he was sure that Grace was asleep in order to go back to join his team processing the evidence from the scene, but on the other hand he wanted to be there when Grace woke up, to hold her when the memory of that evening's revelations came flooding back. In the end his body decided for him. The adrenaline that had flooded his bloodstream when he had first identified the body had long since lost its potency and the void produced by its absence made him feel drowsy, like he'd been dosed with some sort of sedative. Gradually the hand that stroked Grace's hair in a steady rhythm slowed and eventually stopped and his eyelids drooped and shut.

As his mind relaxed into a state of sleep, synapses sparked; projecting vivid images on the inside of his eyelids, like his own personal slide show. The pictures that he saw paraded in succession pulled long forgotten memories…No, not forgotten; hidden; long _hidden_ memories that had long since been secreted away in the very depths of his subconscious.

He remembered his mother, her hair just as red as his; that bounced as she laughed, her kind blue eyes sparkled as she looked down at her eight year old son. She reached down to take his hand as they stepped off the sidewalk and onto the hot road surface. When he fell down and scraped his knees he hadn't cried, and she'd called him her brave little soldier, and given him a kiss on the cheek. That memory faded to be replaced with one far more sinister and suddenly he was walking down a darkened alley in New York, the one next to the building where he'd grown up. There was trash everywhere, bags of garbage had been ripped open, probably by the army of feral cats that had claimed these streets as their playground, and the putrid contents were strewn around in various states of decay. Horatio knew what he was going to find when he reached the end of the alley, the same scene he'd found all those years ago. He wanted to turn around and go back so he didn't have to see it again, but his subconscious just kept him marching onwards, refusing to let him escape the horrors of his past. He saw the crumpled body lying on the ground, her red hair splayed out behind her head like a macabre halo. Her blue eyes no longer sparkled, but were now cloudy, her face twisted into an emotion that he couldn't quite pinpoint, agony? Betrayal? Fear? He felt his younger self shake his mother's body trying to wake her up, desperately whispering 'mom'. She didn't move. Dead weight. He'd run back down the alley as fast as he could shouting for someone to help him; bringing a beat cop, who had just finished a long and weary shift and was heading home, to his aid.

He remembered sitting in the station, cops milling around him, each dealing with his or her own case. Someone bought him something to eat and drink, one of the women from the front desk gave him a hug. Everywhere he looked sad eyes looked back at him, desperately wanting to save this young boy from the pain of losing a parent. Horatio knew then that angels existed. They looked like everyone else on the planet, except angels carried police shields. And that was the moment, right there, that Horatio vowed he would join the ranks of these urban soldiers.

These were memories he'd kept locked away. They were a huge part of who he was today, why he said what he said and did what he did, but they were too painful and too precious to be picked over on a regular basis. In recent years he'd seen these images cast across his dreams only a few times. After the deaths of those closest to him, Speedle, Ray, Marisol, each time he felt he'd failed, each time he'd doubted whether he deserved to carry a badge and gun, whenever he'd wondered if he should just walk away, these dreams came to him, reminding him exactly why he had taken an oath to protect innocent victims, why he had sworn to bring those responsible to justice. These memories served to remind him of why he fought the good fight. That with each criminal he put behind bars he was potentially saving another child from finding the dead body of a mother, father, brother or sister.

A sudden movement pulled him out of his dreams. In his lap he felt Grace's body tense and jump. A strangled cry died in her throat as she too woke from a sleep haunted by ghosts. Her breathing was heavy and ragged as she tried to stifle her sobs. Horatio resumed his steady stroking of her hair, whispering soothingly.

"Hey, sshh. It's ok, sweetheart, it's ok."

His gentle voice seemed to work, and soon her breathing steadied. Grace sat up and rubbed her eyes. Then, leaning her elbows on her knees leaned her head down, resting it in her hands.

"Horatio, about last night…I'm sorry…I…" She paused. "I guess what I'm trying to say is thank-you."

"You have nothing to say sorry for and no reason to thank me."

Grace glanced around quickly to find him smiling that calming and reassuring smile that made her whole world seem at peace before turning away again, realising that crying for hours would have done nothing to improve her complexion

Horatio placed a finger under her chin and tried to turn her to face him, but she pulled back.

"Oh God, I must look terrible." She groaned as she prodded at her skin finding her eyes puffy. As Horatio drew in breath to say something she cut him off. "And don't say anything kind and gentlemanly. I look like death warmed up, end of story."

Horatio couldn't help but grin. He held up his hands in mock surrender.

He pushed himself up from the couch, feeling the muscles in the backs of his legs tighten, stiff from sitting in the same position for so long. He padded over into the open plan kitchen area and flicked the coffee machine on.

"Horatio, do you mind if I take a shower?"

"No problem, there's some fresh towels in the cupboard by the sink." He called back. He watched her un-tuck her legs from underneath her and stretch, and then wander towards the bathroom. He didn't think she looked bad at all, a little tired, but still as beautiful as when he'd first seen her, but then, he was more than slightly biased. In a couple of minutes he heard the water begin to run and turned his attention back to the coffee.

Grace emerged from the bathroom some time later wrapped in his fluffy white bathrobe, her face pink from the heat of the water, her hair still damp. She sniffed the air as she walked further into the room.

"Mmm, bacon."

Horatio chuckled softly and laid a plate down on the table with a flourish.

"Comfort food. You feel better?"

"I feel cleaner, not necessarily better. I borrowed your robe, didn't feel like putting my dirty clothes back on just yet, that ok?" Grace sat down in the seat next to Horatio, one leg bent so that the sole of her foot rested on the seat, her knee pointing upwards, the bathrobe fell open just enough to expose her smooth thigh. Horatio glanced down and then looked quickly away. Last night Grace had been off-limits, this morning however, he wasn't so sure he could pull back and force himself to be so chivalrous.

"Sure. I had a look through the wardrobe while you were in the shower, managed to find some of Mari's clothes that you could wear, I think you're about the same size."

"Mari?" Her head jerked up as she heard the female name.

Horatio had forgotten that Grace didn't know about Marisol. She seemed so tuned into his thoughts and feelings that it was sometimes difficult to remember that she hadn't been in his life more than a few months.

"I…we…" Horatio tried to find the right words and put them in the right order to explain what had happened. "Marisol was Eric's sister…and my wife. I met her on a case after a routine traffic stop found she had drugs in her car…"

"Your wife? Oh God, you're married. Oh I knew this was too good to be true. There had to be something wrong." Grace pulled the bathrobe tighter around her and stood up in a panic, turning back and forth, not sure what to do, then paused. "Hang on, you said _was_. What d'you mean she _was_ your wife?"

Horatio paused before he answered, and Grace saw the flash of pain that shot across his eyes for a brief second.

"She's dead. She was killed by a Mala Noche shooter some time ago."

Grace mentally kicked herself for her stupidity, she should have known that there was no way Horatio would play with her feelings in such a callous manner and she felt a stab of guilt that her rash reaction had made this man, who had sat and comforted her in her time of need, relive some of his obvious pain.

"Oh Horatio, I'm sorry."

He looked at her, his eyes open wide with truth and honesty and when he spoke his tone was serious.

"Listen Grace, my job, my life…they're not straight-forward. There are things in my past that are not pleasant. You've got to believe that I don't mean to keep them a secret from you, ok? It's just that I don't talk about them very often. You understand?"

She nodded. They were silent for a minute or two before Horatio spoke, his tone had lasped from deadly serious back into a teasing nature.

"So you think this is too good to be true, huh?" He smirked as he watched her face flush.

_To be continued…_


	20. Chapter 20

"So what've we got?"

The question was out of his mouth before he'd even swung around the doorframe and entered the layout room. His sudden appearance made the room's other occupants jump as they were pulled from their quiet considerations of the evidence that lay on the light table in front of them. To one end of the table Horatio saw that the box containing evidence taken from Sarah's apartment during their short investigation from a few days ago had been pulled from the evidence locker so that the information garnered in the earlier case could be used in the current analysis.

"H, man, you scared the hell out of me." Eric grinned.

Horatio cast his eyes around to the other two investigators. Ryan sat looking towards Eric, a smirk on his face. Calleigh on the other hand sat perched on one of the lab's tall stools and was staring directly at Horatio, her sparkling green eyes glinting as thoughts whizzed unseen through her mind. Dipping his head to break Calleigh's penetrating gaze, Horatio walked over to the table and cast his eye over the evidence bags and piles of glossy photographs that lay in front of the investigators.

"So tell me what we know so far."

Ryan was the first to respond. He opened the manila folder that Horatio recognised as the Medical Examiner's findings, and scanned the report, giving Horatio a shortened summary.

"Autopsy showed vic was shot twice, once in the back, that bullet perforated the aorta, would've caused her to bleed out within less than a minute, but the wound that actually killed her was a bullet to the back of the skull, must've been fired within seconds of the first shot. Alexx says that there's some subdermal bruising on the vic's arms and neck, she has a split lip and fairly severe facial bruising, all pre-mortem." Ryan looked pointedly at Horatio, "I guess that explains the blood on her bedroom wall." He looked down at the report again. "Report says that the wound to the face showed only minimal signs of healing, so it could only have happened about one to two hours before she died."

"Did we get a TOD?"

"The level of decay suggests that the vic has been dead for 4 days, which fits the timeframe from the disturbance at her apartment."

"Ok, results from toxicology?"

"Tox panel says that the victim had a substantial spike of cocaine in her system, along with trace amounts of alcohol."

"Thank-you Mr Wolfe. Calleigh have you had a chance to take a look at the bullets Alexx extracted at the post?"

"You better believe I have. Both rounds were 9mm parabellum rounds. From the rifling characteristics I'd say we're looking for a Taurus pistol. Projectile penetration depth suggests that the vic was shot from about two metres away. I've run the bullets through IBIS, but I zeroed out, no matches on the system."

"Ok. Eric, any trace from the bag she was wrapped in?"

"Not much, there were a few nasty bacteria cultures that undoubtedly came from the less than healthy Miami River. I used the z-nose to pick up any scents left on the body, trace was degraded slightly, but the plastic wrapping did provide some protection, the z-nose picked up smoke and cologne."

"Well you'd pick up those odours from a club. Sounds like Sarah was working the night she was murdered."

Eric nodded.

"Exactly what I was thinking, so the z-nose is a bust. But the good news is that I did manage to lift a couple of latent prints from the section of plastic that wasn't submersed in the water." Eric pulled a printout of a criminal record from a folder in front of him and handed it to Horatio. "Fingerprint links us to a guy called Jeffrey Harris, he's got a record for dealing narcotics."

"Do we have a current address for Mr Harris?"

"We've got a work address for him." Eric smiled triumphantly.

"From the smirk on your face I'm guessing it's relevant."

Delko chuckled.

"Oh yeah, Jeff's currently working as a bartender at the 'Flames' stripclub on Collins."

"The same club that Sarah worked at, I'd say that qualifies as relevant. I think it's time that we had a talk with Mr Harris."

"Already on it H, PD's bringing him in right now."

"Nice work Eric. Ok guys, thank-you for your hard work on this; let's push this one until we find the truth."

Nods all round greeted this statement.

"Horatio, can I have a quick word with you?" Calleigh nodded her head in the direction of the door.

"Sure." His expression was puzzled, wondering what Calleigh wanted to run by him out of earshot of her team mates. Over time the members of his team had developed close working relationships and felt comfortable broaching almost any subject in their company, so this request for privacy came a little out of the blue.

They moved out of the room, Horatio, always the gentleman, held back as he reached the door to allow Calleigh to pass through first. The pair walked in silence for a few seconds until they had left the layout room a sufficient distance behind. Horatio had only seen Calleigh like this a couple of times before, each time she had been trying to protect him. The most recent example that sprung to his mind saw Calleigh squaring up to Rick Stetler, the vicious IAB agent who would love nothing more than to see Horatio crash and burn, when a suspect had brought a charge of use of excessive force against Horatio.

Calleigh stopped abruptly and Horatio, who was still wrapped up in his own thoughts continued walking for a few steps before he realised that the figure walking at his side was no longer there. He turned and retraced his steps to where the petite blonde had stopped.

"What's on your mind Cal?"

She drew a breath before answering, running what she was about to say through her mind before she actually said it out loud.

"You know I respect you as an investigator, and I would never question your judgement Horatio…"

"But?"

"…But, I'm worried that you're too close to this case. Not because I think your objectivity would ever be clouded, I don't think you would ever let that happen. But, well, you saw the evidence, there's just not that much to go on. Unless we get really lucky with this case it's going to go down as an open-unsolved."

"And you don't think I'll be able to let it go."

Calleigh looked him straight in the eye, and Horatio saw in that instant the respect and admiration she held for her boss, he also saw how much she worried about him.

"Horatio, I, you…oh heck, you're like a dog with a bone. Even if we hit a dead end, you won't let it go, I know it and you know it. I don't want you to make this personal, it won't help things with Grace y'know."

He looked at her quizzically.

"I know you think that bringing the person responsible will make Grace happy, but it won't. All it'll do is give her a temporary fix. It won't bring Sarah back. And if you can't give her that result eventually it'll drive a wedge between you. She'll see how much of yourself you're pouring into the case," Calleigh tilted her head to one side slightly and gave a wry smile as she spoke her next phrase, "as you always do," she paused before she continued, "and she'll blame herself for the sleepless nights, for the endless worry and gradually you'll drift apart."

"Cal, I can't promise that I won't make it personal, I guess in a way it's already personal, and I can't promise I won't get caught up in it, I think I already am. But right now, I have to try to get the scum that did this off the streets, not just for Grace, but for the family of the next victim this monster targets."

"Well, I never really expected to be able to make you walk away from the case, you're just too damn stubborn for that. But you know as well as I do the lab's been under enough scrutiny lately, we need to stay professional and objective no matter how we're connected to a case."

"Well that's what I've got you for Cal, to keep me on the straight and narrow." He grinned, appreciating how difficult it had been for her to come out and say that to him.

"You better believe it."

_To be continued…_


	21. Chapter 21

"Caine." Horatio flipped open his cell phone. Instantly the phone stopped ringing as the call was connected and he spoke into the microphone. He listened to someone on the other end for a few seconds.

"Yep. I'll get one of the team there asap."

Horatio slipped the phone back into the pocket of his jacket and walked purposefully back towards the layout room. As he walked through the door the conversation between Eric and Ryan stopped dead. Ryan's face was red and he looked like he was about to punch Delko and wipe the smug expression from his face. Horatio suppressed a grin and wondered if the pair would ever stop bickering. It had been like this ever since he had hired Ryan as a new team member after his previous CSI, Tim Speedle, had been killed in the line of duty. Horatio suspected that Eric had never fully recovered from the death of his close friend and team mate, and Ryan's ambitious attitude had made the already delicate situation descend into a virtual war zone. Eric and Ryan had been in competition from day one, over evidence, suspects, and more recently the affections of the newest member of the team; Natalia. Horatio often found himself reminding them that they were supposed to be professionals, and that a public crime scene was not the place for the beating of chests in a show of masculinity. But he knew that deep down they both had a great deal of respect for each other, he just wished they'd show it every now and again. Perhaps he should just give in to his urge to knock both their heads together, that might deal with the situation once and for all. But at least he realised that whether Ryan and Eric got on with each other or not they would never do anything that would compromise the evidence and jeopardise a case.

Now as the two CSIs turned and looked expectantly towards him, each displaying a look akin to that of an eager puppy, Horatio found it incredibly difficult not to smirk.

"Mr Wolfe, dispatch just alerted me to another case, a body's washed up at Brickell Park. Take Natalia and process the scene.

"Ok, H." Ryan jumped up, and for a second Horatio almost expected him to rip off a smart salute, so enthusiastic was his response.

This time it was Eric's cell phone that pierced the quiet surroundings of the lab. His conversation was short, consisting solely of a few 'mm-hmm's and a couple of 'ok's. After Ryan had left the room, on a mission to find Natalia, Horatio looked enquiringly at Eric.

"PD just bought Jeff Harris in. He's in one of the interview rooms."

"Well I guess we'd better go and have a chat with him. Wouldn't want him to get lonely would we?"

Horatio leaned against Frank's desk in the bull pen. The Texan was nowhere to be seen, presumably still in court giving testimony, or possibly making a quick getaway from Bailey's wrath if he'd shown up looking like a wreck after last night's crime scene call out had turned into a marathon investigation. Horatio now utilised the empty desk as a perch while he took a few minutes to study the twitching figure of Jeff Harris, who was currently sitting alone in the interview room. His fingers were tapping on the table and his knee seemed to jerk spasmodically of its own accord. Horatio was fairly certain that this guy was about as juiced up as you could get without overdosing on whatever illegal substance he'd introduced to his system. Horatio inwardly groaned a little, interviewing stoners, meth-heads and acid freaks was always unpredictable, you just couldn't tell whether they'd try and pin you to the wall by your throat, collapse in a sobbing heap or, as most frequently happened, redecorate the room in a less than attractive shade of vomit. _Only one way to find out_, he thought as he pushed away from the desk and started to walk purposefully towards the room.

As he pushed open the toughened glass door Harris spun around in his chair. A somewhat unwise manoeuvre, Horatio thought, given Harris' fairly obviously drugged up state. Sure enough, Harris threw out an arm and grabbed onto the table as his sudden movement made the world spin in front of his eyes. Horatio didn't wait for his balance to stabilise, he walked quickly round to the empty chair that stood across the metal table from Harris and sat down. Harris's vision eventually became clearer and his head stopped spinning, and he found himself looking at the empty doorway of the interview room where Horatio had been standing seconds earlier, wondering what had made him turn around.

"Harris!" Horatio suddenly barked, the sharp tone making the single word echo around the small room and making the subject spin back around in his seat to face the direction that the noise had come from. Surprised to see anyone else in the room he pushed his chair back with such a force that it slammed into the wall behind him. Harris tried to pull himself to his feet, staggered and failed to move one of his feet fast enough ending up in a heap in one corner of the interview room.

"Pitiful." Horatio muttered to himself as he rolled his eyes.

"Man, where did you come from? You just, like, appeared." Harris asked as he began the delicate operation of untangling his limbs from the human knot that he'd managed to tie himself in.

"I'm magic Jeff, I can be anywhere and everywhere." Horatio watched as Harris's face dropped into an open-mouthed, fearful expression. Horatio got precious little chance for fun on the job, taunting drugged up suspects was one of the few things he relished.

"Dude, this is such a bad trip."

Horatio leaned forward, dropping both the volume and the pitch of his voice, so it was barely more than a grumbling whisper. It was the kind of voice that you felt in your chest rather than heard.

"If you don't answer my questions it's gonna get a whole lot worse Jeff, I can be your worst nightmare." Horatio flashed an evil grin. He was getting quite into the role.

Jeff slowly pulled himself up off the floor, retrieved his chair and once again took a seat opposite Horatio. Since Horatio's arrival he had developed a nervous twitch and every now and again his head would jerk involuntarily to one side.

"You work as a bartender at the 'Flames' stripclub on Collins, Jeff?"

"Yeah, place is a real dive, man."

"You know Sarah Turner?"

Harris seemed to be mulling the name over in his mind.

"Um, nah, I don't guess so."

"You sure Jeff?" Horatio pulled Sarah Turner's autopsy photograph out of the folder that he'd brought into the room with him and placed the glossy print on the table in front of his suspect.

"Oh man, yeah, that's Phoenix, I know her. Hey y'know what I just realised? She's called Phoenix and she works in a club called flames. Cool huh? It's like fate or something." Harris started to giggle.

Horatio was torn between two actions, he felt like either burying his head in his hands and sobbing for the state of the youth of today or alternatively taking off his shoe and beating Harris around the head with it. He was fairly certain that the latter action would get him suspended for police brutality, and that the former would just make people think he'd finally lost it, so he refrained from both, having to be satisfied with a roll of his eyes and a sharp comment.

"Wow, there's no fooling you is there Jeff?"

More giggles met his snide remark.

Horatio came to the conclusion that there was no point in continuing the interview with the subject in this state; he just wasn't going to get anywhere. He turned to the officer that was standing just outside the door to the interview room.

"Officer, please take Mr Harris out of here, get him to give a urine sample and when he pops positive for whatever illegal substance he's on throw him into a holding cell until he comes down from his psychedelic trip."

"Yes Sir."

As the officer led Harris away Eric stuck his head around the door.

"Our suspect have anything interesting to say?"

"Nothing. I'm surprised the guy can even string words together to form a coherent sentence. Guy's as high as a kite. We're gonna have to wait til he regains the use of at least a couple of brain cells before he'll be able to help us with the case. That's providing that the drugs haven't killed all his brain cells off already."

Eric snorted impatiently.

"Oh well, at least there's one bonus."

"What's that?" Horatio looked quizzically towards Eric.

"There's only one thing that's better than taunting someone on a drug induced paranoia trip. And that's being loud and intense around someone's who's _just coming down _from a really bad drug induced paranoia trip." He smirked and Horatio started to chuckle.

"Well, I guess that's worth waiting for."

_To be continued…_

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_A/N – __**Thank-you**__ for the reviews guys, they make me all warm and tingly inside._

_You may notice Natalia gets a brief mention in here + she appears quickly a bit later in the fic. She doesn't take a huge part in this story because it takes time for me to get to know a character, but I think since the end of season 5 she's definitely grown on me._

_TenFour – I enjoyed season 5 tremendously, but I know what you mean, I've kinda missed that interaction between H and Cal this season too, but I guess our bullet girl's growing up. Ooh if only they'd let me loose on a script…mind you I'd probably blow the entire special effects budget for the season in one spectacular explosion or something! Burn baby burn!!_

_Clairec12344 – What can I say, she's a pretty gutsy lady! I don't think there's anyone Calleigh won't stand up to!!_

_Quiet-heart – I hope that since I got your attention I'm keeping you interested!_


	22. Chapter 22

"…Well, not exactly feeling any better, but I guess that'll take some time. Besides, life goes on, right?"

"It always does, Grace, always does." Horatio was sitting back in the black leather chair that sat behind his desk, his face solemn as he tried to pick out any indicators in the female voice on the other end of the phone that might suggest she wasn't coping as well as she was trying to imply she was. Out of the corner of his eye Horatio noticed a movement and looked up to find Ryan Wolfe lurking in the doorway, apparently trying to loiter as unobtrusively as possible. Holding up a finger, Horatio indicated that he'd just be another minute and Ryan nodded his head and ducked out of the room again.

"Gracie, I gotta go, you sure you're gonna be ok?"

"Horatio, I'll be fine. Go catch the bad guys for me."

"You can count on it. I promise."

"Y'know what Horatio? A lot of people have made me promises in my life, but I never really believed them. But I don't doubt you for a second. I…" She seemed about to say something but the pause suggested she had changed her mind at the last moment, "I'll see you later?"

"Count on it."

Horatio clicked his cell phone shut, his eyes remained on the gadget for a few seconds after the call had ended before he raised his head and beckoned for Ryan to come in. Ryan's face appeared in the doorway, although he seemed initially hesitant about entering the room.

"H, you mind if I have a word with you?"

"No problem Mr Wolfe." Horatio gladly shoved a pile of files that sat in front of him to one side and leaned his elbows on the desk surface, interlacing his fingers and inclining his head slightly so that Ryan could be in no doubt whatsoever that he had his supervisor's undivided attention.

Ryan looked a little relieved, walked into the office and took a seat in the chair opposite Horatio's desk.

"What's on your mind?"

"The case, the floater from Brickell Park." He paused for a short while before continuing. Horatio didn't speak, allowing the young CSI to work out how he wanted to word what he was about to say. "We just identified the body of the murder victim as that of James Stuart McKellan."

Horatio sat up a little straighter in his seat, his attention caught by a familiar name.

"Are we talking about _the_ Jimmy McKellan?"

"Uh-huh. Drug lord, loan shark and a prominent member of the Miami Mafia."

Horatio whistled quietly.

When people thought 'Mafia' they most commonly thought of the five families that united to control the organised crime syndicates of New York, most weren't aware that the influence of the Mafia, or 'Cosa Nostra' as they had become known in recent years, spread far and wide, Chicago, Philadelphia, Las Vegas and New Orleans to name just a few were all controlled, to a large degree, by heavy hitters in the Mob scene. Far from the five families that people were familiar with, the Bonanno, Colombo, Gambino, Genovese and Lucchese families, the Mafia actually controlled swathes of America with twenty-six families distributed from coast to coast. Even less well known was that Miami had developed its own ties with Cosa Nostra.

The origins of the Miami Mafia were thanks to members of varying ranks, from Mafia soldiers through to the underbosses of crime families escaping from the city when the heat of the judicial inferno got a little too hot even for them. Miami provided them with the perfect haven, living the good life in the city's prosperous communities, but still maintaining a quick getaway plan in the form of a quick jump over to Cuba, where no extradition order could force them to return and atone for their crimes if trouble followed them south. Many representatives enjoyed the ambiguity that Miami offered them, and even when the pressure from their original territories lifted they remained in Florida; forging new alliances and creating a whole new criminal underworld. Horatio thought about this development of Mafia control now, as he considered his team's involvement in investigating the death of a man who had become one of Miami's most prominent Mafia figures.

Horatio had heard of McKellan through his various connections in the Miami criminal justice system. He was a vicious and intelligent individual who had scaled the ranks of the New York Mob system, rising from being a mere associate who had overcome even his lack of Italian ancestry to grasp at the top criminal positions in the emerging territories that Florida provided. It was unprecedented for someone with no Italian ties to rise above the lowly position of associate, but somehow McKellan had done it, his success making him all the more powerful and feared.

"So what's the problem?" Horatio asked the question although he was already pretty certain that he could guess what Ryan's concerns would be.

"Well, I've never really dealt with a big publicity case on my own before, and when word gets out this is going to be huge."

"Mr Wolfe, you are an experienced investigator, and I have every faith in your ability to deal with this case. Besides, you're not dealing with it alone, you know that any of the team will help you if you need it."

Ryan had started grinning with pride at Horatio's comment, his boss's confidence in him making his heart soar, although Horatio noticed a brief few milliseconds when his expression became more sombre. Horatio knew exactly what was going through Ryan's head _'I'm not asking Delko for help.'_ But the thought passed and Ryan continued to beam.

"Thanks H. Appreciate it."

"Well one thing's certain."

"What's that H?"

"You're not going to be short of suspects for this murder." He chuckled a little.

Ryan stood from the chair and turned to make his way out of the office. As he did so he narrowly avoided colliding with Natalia who was running into the room as Ryan was trying to leave.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" He asked as he straightened himself up.

"Oh, sorry Ryan. It's just that I've been starting a profile of the victim, and I've turned up something pretty interesting." She paused.

"Well? Don't keep us in suspense." Ryan motioned frantically for her to continue. Horatio stifled a chuckle, as he noted that Ryan's OCD was making a brief appearance.

"Oh, sorry. Um, well it turns out that Jimmy McKellan owns quite a lot of property around the city…"

"He's part of the Mob, Natalia, he probably owns a considerable amount of property. We already knew that." Ryan cut Natalia's information short.

"I wasn't finished yet." She snapped back, before composing herself and continuing. "The most interesting bit is that part of his property manifesto includes a certain club on Collins."

"Are you saying that he owns 'Flames'?" Horatio saw where she was going with her information, and could understand why Natalia was so excited.

"Yep. Got it in one. The club is owned by McKellan, although he employs a manager," she checked her notes to get the right name, "a guy called Angelo Dillon, to take care of the day-to-day running of the club. Two murders connected to the same club. That's no coincidence right?"

"No such thing in this job." Horatio adopted a thoughtful expression, the thumb and forefinger of his right hand pulled at his bottom lip. "Everything comes back to this club, doesn't it? Ok guys, nice work."

He flipped the cover of the report beside him shut and tossed it back into his in-tray. Paperwork could wait. He strode out of his office, only pausing to pull his jacket from the back of his chair. Leaving Ryan and Natalia staring at their boss's rapidly retreating back.

"Eric." Horatio called Delko over as he passed by the trace lab, motioning for the Cuban investigator to follow him.

"H, you going to try talking to Harris again?" The younger investigator asked eagerly as he fell into step with his boss.

"I don't care if he's unconscious, he's going to answer my questions. We've waited long enough."

"I took another look at the plastic sack we found the victim's body wrapped in, the placement of the fingerprints I found are consistent with the position that you'd expect to find someone's prints if they were tearing the bag off the roll, but they're also consistent with what you'd expect to find if he'd torn the bag _before_ the one used to wrap the vic off the roll." Eric illustrated his point by grasping the piece of paper he was carrying, and miming ripping it, so Horatio could see the position that his fingers, and therefore his fingerprints would take.

"So let's find out which it is."

When Jeffrey Harris was bought into the interview room he looked a lot less perky than he had the last time he'd been in the interview room, Horatio judged that he was now well into the crash stage of the meth-amphetamine high that a urine test had shown he was on. A meth high had several stages, first of all was the anticipation of the hit which was followed, the speed depending on the method that the subject chose to introduce the drug to his or her system, by a huge rush of dopamine, the chemical that the human body produced to create the feeling of complete euphoria. This stage was followed by the beginning of a come down, just before the major crash set in, the unfortunate thing was that the crash always left the user lower than when they'd first taken the hit, which was when the temptation to re-up really set in. Clearly, as Harris had been unable to take another hit of meth while he was in the company of Miami's finest he was currently at a pretty low ebb. From his position in the corner of the room Horatio took the time to observe the room's new occupant. His hand still twitched involuntarily and he looked as if he was having trouble focusing on one specific object as his pupils lazily slid around the room. His skin was sallow and greasy, and deep bags had formed under his eyes. It was a sad sight, and Horatio only wished that he could show the kids that he regularly found in this state the truth of what they were doing to their precious lives.

Eric was seated at the table, a folder lay closed on the surface in front of him. Harris simply stood where the uniformed officer who had led him up from the holding cells had left him.

"You waiting for an invitation Jeff? Take a seat." Eric's voice was slightly menacing as he spoke.

Harris remained standing by the doorway, his face pulled into a scowl.

"Sit DOWN." Horatio issued the command from where he was leaning on the wall in the corner of the room. Harris jumped, surprised by Horatio's sudden appearance for the second time that day. His gaze having been concentrated on the Cuban CSI sitting at the table in front of him, he hadn't noticed Horatio standing to one side. He muttered something inaudible under his breath as he begrudgingly followed the instruction, but both CSIs understood the general sentiment nonetheless.

Harris angled his chair away from the window as he sat down and scrunched his face up into a cross between a squint and a scowl. Eric smirked in Horatio's direction, the Lieutenant had specifically chosen this particular interview room purely because it faced the burning orb of the sun, right now the strong rays of sunlight beamed through the honeycomb window design, casting a strange pattern over the whole room, illuminating the space far brighter than any artificial light source could ever manage. Both men knew that Harris' crash down to sobriety from his drug induced trip would be ten times more intense than the worst hangover you'd ever experienced and putting him in such a brightly lit room would be incredibly uncomfortable.

"So let's carry on from where we left off shall we Jeff?" Horatio growled. "When was the last time you saw Sarah Turner?"

"Who?"

"You remember Jeff, we've already established that Sarah Turner is Phoenix from the club. So when was the last time you saw her?" As Horatio spoke he started to move from his position in the corner. He walked slowly around until he was behind the subject where he stopped. It was an old interview trick that made the subject feel incredibly uneasy.

"Aw, man I don't know." Harris dropped his head into his hands and started to massage his temples.

"Well, I suggest you start remembering Jeff, because we've got evidence from the body that's pointing right at you. You're looking at murder one Jeff." It was Eric that spoke this time, keeping his eyes down, not looking at the suspect, flipping through the folder in his hands as he spoke.

"Whoa, man. I never killed her, I swear."

"Then you're gonna have to start talking to us, because right now it doesn't look so good for you." Eric had closed the folder and now looked directly at Harris as he spoke.

"Fine." Harris closed his eyes, trying to think past the headache that was making his head pound so severely it felt as if his brain would pop right out of his skull. "I worked the bar at the club on Friday night, she was working then, she would've finished at about 4am same time as me. I remember she didn't turn up for her shift on Saturday 'cause Cindy was pissed that she had to fill in for her."

Eric looked at Horatio who met his gaze. It had been Saturday that Grace had found Sarah's apartment broken into. The time period also matched the findings of the coroner's report. Sometime between 3am and mid afternoon on Saturday someone had forced their way into Sarah's apartment and taken her by force, a few hours later she was dead.

"Ok, did anything odd happen on Friday night or Saturday that was out of the ordinary? Did Phoenix look worried about anything? Did you notice anyone being a little bit too friendly?"

"No way man, Phoenix was her usual self. I remember she was trying to score some coke though." He held his hands up as Eric raised an eyebrow at his statement. "Hey she didn't get any from me. I don't deal no more. OK?"

"Ok so you finished your shift 4am Saturday morning, when was the next time you were in work?"

"Started my next shift later than usual, guess it'd be 'bout 6pm."

"Why later than usual?" Eric had picked up on a key phrase, looking for anything that might stand out as different from the norm.

Harris shrugged

"I usually come in early on Saturdays, do a stock take of the bar. But that Saturday Mr Dillon said he didn't want me in. Hey, like I told him, it's his profits that's gonna be down if he don't order the right liquor."

"Dillon?"

"Angelo Dillon, the manager. Anyhow, I guess he just wanted the club to himself to get to know one girl or another. He's never exactly been one to keep business and pleasure separate, if y'know what I mean." He winked conspiratorially in the direction of the investigators, who returned this facial movement with less than impressed expressions, neither trying too hard to conceal their deep rooted contempt for the man in front of them.

"Which girl was he getting to know?"

"This week? Angel, I think." Harris ducked his head back down and once again started to massage his temples as Horatio and Eric turned away to confer for a second.

"Making sure the staff didn't come in while he cleaned the scene and disposed of the body?" Eric whispered to Horatio as the Lieutenant came to perch on the edge of the table.

"Could be, Eric. Hang on." Horatio pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number.

"Frank, it's Horatio. Frank, I need you to go shopping…for a judge to sign off on a search warrant for the Flames stripclub."

"Thought you'd never ask Horatio. I'm on it."

While Horatio placed his call; Eric continued talking to Harris.

"So as part of your job at the club would you have reason to touch refuse sacks?"

"Huh? Course I do. I gotta clear the junk up from the bar somehow, man. Otherwise we'd be swimming in a sea of empty bottles back there."

"Ok, so you worked 'til about 4am, where did you go after that?"

"You kidding man? I went home, I was beat."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"Yeah, my girlfriend. You wanna yank her in and question her too?"

"A phone number where we can contact her will be sufficient." Horatio stated simply as he finished his phone call. Giving Harris an unimpressed look that suggested the subject was getting a little too confident for his own good.

"Where you the last person to leave the club after Friday night?"

"Nah, Angelo's always the last one to leave. He usually counts the weeks takings over a few shots of whiskey and a cigar before he goes home." Harris suddenly sat up straighter in his seat as Horatio saw a flash of inspiration cross behind his eyes. "Hey I remember that as I was leaving Jimmy was just going in, so he was there after I left too."

"Jimmy McKellan?"

"Yeah, he owns the place, along with about half of Miami. Dude's a real badass, hey you're lookin' for someone who murdered Phoenix he'd be a great place to start." Harris was starting to look a bit green now. "Listen, I told you everything I know, so can I go home? I feel like hell."

"Yeah, you can go for now Jeff. But a bit of advice, don't go too far."

"Sure, whatever man." Harris pulled himself out of the chair and slouched out of the room, accompanied by the uniformed officer that had led him from the holding cells earlier.

"Eric, let's go and see if Frank has had any luck with that search warrant yet. I think it's time we took a closer look inside that club."

_To be continued…_

_-------------------------------------------------------_

_A/N – And on with the investigation…_

_TenFour – I think he's gotta enjoy those interviews too, the poor bloke gets precious little enjoyment I think he'd relish the chance to be mean once in a while. I have to admit I've got quite fond of Grace myself, but I'm letting her bow out for a couple of chapters while H gets to chase the evidence(Yay – Go H!) and she can hide and be a bit weepy in private – poor gal! I liked the Freaks and Tweaks episode (bring back Madison and Suzie!) – The 'I'm Magic' line has to be one of my top 5 quotes from the series- Caruso delivers that line really well._

_Lakshimbai – I like the Calleigh/Horatio interaction - a great crimefighting duo, they're like Batman and Robin, except they don't wear funny costumes and don't have a Batcave – hmm, on second thoughts, ignore that, they're nothing like Batman and Robin. I think Horatio giving in to his desire to take off his shoe and beat a drugged up suspect around the head with it would make a great comedy sketch. I'm glad I made you laugh, if it was all doom and gloom it'd get very depressing! I'm not sure if you're familiar with a show called 'Red Dwarf' (it's a British comedy) but I'm sure there's a little bit of Arnold Rimmer in Ryan._


	23. Chapter 23

"Mr Wolfe. Can I have a minute or two of your time please?" Horatio had popped his head around the door to the lab where Ryan was currently working, and found the young CSI hunched over the desk his brow wrinkled in concentration as he leafed through a towering pile of papers.

"Oh sure H. No problem." The relief on Ryan's face at being interrupted was palpable and Horatio wondered how many hours Ryan had spent on the same monotonous task for even Ryan's obsessive compulsive persona to lose enthusiasm.

"How's the case going?" Horatio asked.

"Honestly? It's not going anywhere. I've just hit a brick wall. No-one who knows the vic is talking, you know what it's like with these guys, won't tell the police a thing. The Mafia deals with its own problems. I've been sifting through all of McKellan's paperwork that we could recover." Ryan paused and raised an eyebrow, and Horatio understood perfectly, when Ryan said _'that we could recover'_ he acknowledged that he was looking through a highly sanitised version of McKellan's records, anything that might have proved useful to the investigation had probably been burned by his associates already.

Ryan rubbed his eyes frustratedly before looking back at his boss.

"At the moment I'm still trying to work out the vic's movements on the day he was shot. As it stands, the last definite sighting that I can get anyone to attest to of Jimmy McKellan was as he got off a flight from New York over three days before he was killed."

Horatio wondered how many Mafia cases had he investigated over his career. He'd lost count a long time ago, and Horatio knew that when the Mob closed ranks, it was only brute force or dumb luck that would move the case forward. He smiled at the younger CSI,

"Well Mr Wolfe, it looks like I've got some good news for you then, because I have a witness that can place Jimmy McKellan at the Flames stripclub within the last few hours of his life."

Ryan's mouth just opened and closed soundlessly, looking backwards and forwards between the man and the pile of paperwork on the desk, and looked like he was about to hug the Lieutenant.

---------------------------------------------

The sun was just making an appearance over the horizon as Horatio clenched his fist and hammered on the glass panel of the door, his pounding making the door shake, rattling it at the hinges. Getting a search warrant had taken longer than they'd anticipated and Horatio only hoped that the chain of informants that unfortunately operated out of the justice buildings, passing information on police manoeuvring and possible busts to the criminals involved hadn't alerted interested parties to their intentions.

"MDPD. Open the door." He yelled.

It took a few seconds before a figure emerged from the darkened interior, he shoved his hands into the back pocket of his jeans and started to withdraw something metallic.

"What the f…" The obscenity died on his lips as he came closer to the door and was faced with the business end of Horatio's Glock firearm. The figure raised his hands, showing that the only thing he held were a bunch of keys. Horatio nodded and allowed his weapon to drop until it was pointing at the ground ahead of him, although he maintained a two handed hold on the grip, ready to raise and use the firearm in an instant if so required. The two uniformed officers that flanked the CSI Lieutenant holstered their weapons which had also been drawn.

The figure that had emerged from the dark club selected the right key from the bunch in his hand and inserted it roughly into the lock, which clicked audibly as the mechanism was disengaged. Horatio took the time to observe the man who was slowly unlocking the doors. Although he was stooped; Horatio estimated he was about six feet tall, his jet black hair was slicked back, each strand moulding severely to the contours of his scalp. His clothes, jeans and a t-shirt, looked distinctly careworn although Horatio guessed that they had been purchased from the store in that state, and from the style he could guess that these weren't designer knock offs, they were the real deal, the guy's outfit probably retailed at about a thousand bucks. When he looked up Horatio noticed that his eyes were barely open, through the slim aperture he observed that his irises were so dark that they were almost black, so that when coupled with the rest of his appearance gave him a creepy, almost serpentine appearance.

Frank served the figure, whom they soon found to be none other than the club manager Angelo Dillon himself, with the search warrant, and pushed past the bemused manager into the main body of the club, the group of uniformed officers and CSIs following in his wake. Inside the club the lights were dimmed to such an extent that the only word to describe it would be dingy, the small amount of light that was present served only to heighten the newcomers' awareness of the shadows being cast by various pieces of furniture. The floor was sticky to say the very least, at one point Horatio lowered his foot to be greeted with a squelching sound and thought that he'd have to sacrifice his shoes and walk out in his socks when his initial attempt to extricate himself from the floor-covering's grip proved fruitless. After a few tugs however, he finally managed to free himself from his inert captor and shuffled quickly away from the offending area. And as if the low level of light and the sticky flooring wasn't enough, when coupled with the overpoweringly musty smell that pervaded every corner of the interior, it made the club a particularly unappetising scene to process. The smell was a complex mixture of a number of odours, some of which Horatio could identify. The sweet tang of strong liquor hung heavy on the air accented here and there by the scent of perfumed oils, presumably from the strippers that plied their trade on the stage and in the private booths dotted around the room. This thought brought him to another range of smells that tingled his olfactory senses, there was a definite human element present, and Horatio doubted that the secretions were confined purely to blood, sweat and saliva. For once, he found himself glad that he would soon be able to pull on a par of latex gloves, considering them as providing protection not only for the potential crime scene, but also for himself.

Angelo had followed them as they had entered the club, his eyes still fixed to the piece of paper that Tripp had handed him, scanning the terms of the search warrant. Eventually satisfied that the document was genuine he shrugged his shoulders, and rolled his hand in the direction of the CSIs as if to indicate for them to start.

"Hey, you guys want to hurry this along a bit? I got work to do."

Horatio found a great dislike for the manager welling up inside himself which was unusual at such an early juncture. Usually he managed to maintain an emotional ambivalence towards the suspects until he had gathered enough evidence to be sure that they were involved in something. But now and then he met individuals so repugnant, it was difficult to retain any sense of professionalism around them, this was most definitely one of those occasions. He ignored the comment as he opened his kit and extracted a pair of gloves, pulling them on over his fingers and finally snapping them in place around his wrists.

Angelo had clearly missed the irritable warning signs and maintained his cocky attitude.

"Oh yeah, and we're between cleaning companies right now, so no-one's been in to clean up for about a week."

"Your point being?"

"I'm just saying, have fun." A humourless, spiteful laugh escaped his lips.

'_Please let him be guilty'_ Horatio found himself thinking.

Dillon wandered off through a door marked 'employees only', closely followed by a uniformed cop who would stay with the manager throughout the search of the premises to ensure that he wouldn't try to destroy any evidence. Although a few minutes later Horatio's irritation faded and a satisfied smile took the place of the frown as he saw movement in the window of the office that looked down over the club, meaning that Angelo was keeping an eye on the progress the investigators were making below, which in Horatio's experience meant that they were onto something.

The officer who had accompanied Angelo up to the office called down to his partner, who jogged up the stairs. Minutes later he re-emerged from the staircase escorting a young woman.

"Lieutenant, this young lady was up in the office."

Horatio straightened up from where he was working and walked over to the new arrival.

"Ma'am. My name is Horatio Caine, we're here executing a search warrant, may I ask you who you are?"

"Oh sure, I'm Amelia. But most people just call me Angel, it's my stage name." She popped her gum and turned, pulling aside the small amount of fabric that covered her back to let Horatio see the angel wings that were tattooed there.

Horatio wondered whether having tattoos was compulsory to work here, and a further disturbing thought niggled at his brain wondering whether the tattoos determined your stage name or if the stage name you chose decided what tattoo you had done.

"So you were here on Saturday."

"Well sure I worked Saturday night. I work most nights."

"I mean you were here earlier in the day on Saturday, keeping Mr Dillon…company." He tried to phrase it as nicely as possible.

"Um, I was gonna to be here, but Angelo got tied up with some business deal. So when I got here he just told me to get lost. Jerk." Her face transformed into a frown as she spoke and popped her gum again as if to emphasize her annoyance with Dillon.

"Ok, thank-you ma'am, I'd like you to wait with this officer until we're done searching."

"Mmm, ok." Another gum pop.

_So Angelo didn't have a reason for coming into the club early on Saturday_. Horatio mused. He was starting to look guiltier by the second, a thought that bought a smile to his face.

It took them several hours to process the club. Everywhere they searched they found a veritable smorgasbord of trace, Horatio shuddered at the sheer volume of biological material they'd found.

"Hey, H. I think I found something." Eric's voice echoed in the quiet surroundings of the club. Horatio stuffed the swab he had just taken back into a box and scribbled the location and nature of the sample, alongside what tests were to be performed on the q-tip when it was received back at the lab, dropped the box back into his case and stood up searching the room for Eric. He eventually located him crouching down in front of the stage area, a spray bottle clasped tightly in his hand. The reason for the excited look that adorned Delko's face was immediately evident as Horatio approached. The floor in front of the investigator was dotted with a fine mist of droplets, all of which were glowing a bright blue.

"Luminol?" Horatio asked, wanting to confirm his suspicions.

"Uh-huh." Eric replied with a triumphant glint in his eye.

The luminol liquid that Eric was using was actually a mixture of the luminol chemical, itself a compound of nitrogen, oxygen, hydrogen and carbon, with a given measure of hydrogen peroxide. When sprayed onto a surface that retained traces of blood the iron present in the blood's haemoglobin caused the unstable liquid to begin a chemical reaction which resulted in luminescence, in other words, it glowed. The glowing spatter pattern now evident on the floor was instantly identifiable to the seasoned investigators as coming from a high velocity wound, possibly a gun shot.

Eric continued to spray luminol over the floor and just a couple of metres away from the first blood spray that had appeared, more dots began to glow. Eric expanded his search, revealing more of the spatter. In one section the pattern became smeared, as if something had disturbed the blood, and then a large pool of luminescence cut through the pattern, the edges of the pool smeared as is something had been dragged across it. Horatio pictured the scene in his mind…

_He saw the projectile fired from the barrel of the gun in a flash. The bullet flew through the air in slow motion, so slow that he could see it spinning as it travelled. The small piece of metal found it's target and the victim's flesh erupted as it forced itself deep into the body, perforating internal organs and gouging a vicious tunnel through ligaments, tendons, skin and blood, in fact anything that it encountered, until finally the momentum of the projectile, slowed by the body's resistance, came to rest just after it had perforated the aorta. The victim gasped, a hand instinctively thrown up to their chest trying in vain to claw the foreign object out of their body, but I was too late the bullet has done too much damage and the consequences were unavoidable. The victim staggered and fell to the floor, smearing the blood that had sprayed in a fine mist over the surrounding area. Another bullet pierced the skull cutting a channel through the brain matter, causing all activity to stop and providing another fine mist of blood on the floor. With the last breath taken, the body shut down and a pool of blood poured from the wound, covering a large area of the floor in the sticky red fluid as the victim bled out. _

Horatio had forced himself to picture an unknown victim in his flashback of the scene, but something deep within him told him that this was where the stripper known as Phoenix had breathed her last breath, but before the results of a DNA test were in, he wouldn't allow his own issues cloud his judgement.

While his brain was working Eric had continued to spray the floor with more luminol, determined to capture the whole pattern of blood spatter. His search was rewarded with a second blood pool about a metre away from the first.

"So two blood patterns, either two victims or one incredibly unlucky victim."

"Sarah Turner was shot twice." Eric suggested. "Could be the primary crime scene."

Horatio nodded. "Take photographs of the spatter, swab for DNA and get the swabs back to the lab asap."

"You got it H."

A little later Horatio joined Calleigh, who had moved from the main space of the club into the offices. Horatio guessed from the expression that was fixed on Calleigh's face and from the way Angelo was currently trying to make himself fade into the wall that the less than tactful club manager had said something insulting to the petite blonde. Horatio pondered what Calleigh had said in response to make Angelo cower in the corner. _Perhaps_, he thought, _she had told him exactly how many firearms she owned_. Calleigh shot him an inquisitive look when she saw the smirk that Horatio was trying, unsuccessfully, to conceal. As Horatio crossed the room the floorboards squeaked, he found himself thinking that this place, with its bucketloads of human biologicals smeared everywhere, drab décor and now loose floorboards, really should be torn down.

_To be continued…_

_As ever, please R & R…_


	24. Chapter 24

Horatio sat in his office going over the various statements they'd taken as part of the case so far, hoping to find some major inconsistencies that might just offer another avenue of investigation. He was also taking a chance to glance through the reports from the uniformed officers that had been watching the club since Sarah's disappearance.

Their reports showed that Dillon knew they were there, but that was the idea, just to let him know he was under surveillance and hopefully to freak him out just enough that he'd make a mistake.

As he turned a page, reading over the most recent log entry, he heard the door to his office creak open. He looked up and found Calleigh poking her head around the door.

"Well hey there. I found a visitor hanging around in reception, thought I'd bring 'em on up." She stepped aside and revealed the slim woman standing behind her. Grace was dressed in combat pants and a strappy top, a bulky 'visitor' pass clipped to one of the straps declared to everyone that she wasn't a member of staff. She was carrying a pretty hefty bag and Horatio's innate nosiness wondered what it contained. Horatio was relieved to see that she looked a lot more content than she had ever since he'd found the body of her sister floating in the murky waters of the Miami River. He wouldn't say she looked happy exactly, but definitely better.

"Hey."

"Hey, come on in." Horatio stood and, rounding the desk, walked over to the two women.

"Well, now I've done my bit of tour guidin' for the day I'd better get back to work, wouldn't want the boss to think I'm slacking." Then, turning to Grace she gave the woman a quick hug. "It's nice to finally meet you, Grace. Horatio's been hidin' you away so he gets you all to himself. You should come out with me and the girls sometime, Alexx and Natalia would just love to share some gossip about our beloved boss with ya."

Grace chuckled.

"Y'know, I might just take you up on that." She smiled and looked pointedly at Horatio, whose cheeks instantly coloured a little.

"Calleigh didn't you say you had work to do?" He tried to hold the pretence of annoyance, failed miserably and ended up grinning.

"I'll be in ballistics if y'all need me." Calleigh turned and threw the pair a wave over her shoulder as she once again descended the few stairs down from Horatio's office.

When Calleigh had vanished, Grace put her bag down on the floor, reached up and placed her arms around Horatio's neck, standing on tip-toes so that she could gently and tenderly kiss him.

"Mmm, well this is a nice surprise." Horatio spoke softly as he slipped his arms around Grace's waist. He was conscious that, thanks to the glass walls, pretty much anyone that walked past could see him, but frankly he didn't care. "And to what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"I wanted to do something spontaneous." She shrugged.

"Mission accomplished, and I'm very glad you did." He leaned his head over her shoulder in order to take a look at his wristwatch. "Hey, d'you wanna go grab something to eat?"

"Actually that's another reason for my visit." Grace broke away from his arms and retrieved her bag, putting it on his desk with a soft 'thump'. "I figured that if you don't sleep properly and you don't take time out to relax, you probably don't bother to eat properly either." She unzipped the bag and started to take out a series of containers each holding a delicious selection of food. At the sight of such a veritable feast Horatio's stomach rumbled.

"See. I knew it." She poked him gently in the ribs. "Sit." She pointed in the direction of his chair.

He gave a mock salute and obeyed.

A few minutes later they were both seated on either side of the desk, which was now covered with a mixture of case files and deli snacks.

When the food had been consumed and only a few remnants were left the pair sat back in their seats and fell into a comfortable silence. It was Horatio that broke the quiet first.

"You seem better today."

"Well, I guess I have good days and bad days. Today is most definitely a good day." She smiled back at him. "Well, I guess I had better let you get on with your work." She inclined her head in the direction of the stack of papers that remained to one side of Horatio's desk.

"I'll show you back down to reception." He said, hoping she would think he was merely being a gentleman and not that he was procrastinating so that he didn't have to deal with the mountain of paperwork that was gradually building up.

She smiled. If she had worked out the ulterior motives behind his offer she didn't say anything.

Once Horatio was once again ensconced back in his office it took only a few minutes before his cell phone started ringing. He checked the caller display and found the number for the ballistics lab being displayed.

"Caine."

"Horatio. I got something you _really_ need to see." Calleigh's voice was excited, the tone of her voice suggesting that she was bouncing up and down with anticipation as she spoke. While Horatio knew that Calleigh often got excited about her work, he also knew that it was rarely so obvious in her outward countenance. So to hear her voice rushing through her words he knew she'd come up with something good.

"Be there in a minute Cal."

It actually took him more like forty seconds to get down to the ballistics lab. Calleigh checked her watch and grinned as she noted the speed at which he had got there.

"What kept you?" She chuckled. "Ok, so I've been processing some of the ballistics evidence from our case. When I first ran the slugs that we pulled from Sarah Turner's body through IBIS I didn't get any hits on previous cases. Well, I've just been back over the evidence, getting some images from the comparison microscope to put on the database and this time I got a really interesting match. Take a look at the screen."

Calleigh tapped a series of keys on the keyboard and immediately an image popped up on the large plasma screen mounted on one wall. The picture showed the view from Calleigh's comparison microscope, and was split into two halves, both sides showing the stria patterns on a bullet.

"Bullet on the left was pulled out of Sarah Turner at the post." Calleigh twiddled the knob on the side of the comparison microscope, turning the bullet striations on the right around until they lined up perfectly with those of the bullet on the left. "The interesting thing here is that the bullet on the right is not from Sarah Turner." She smiled smugly.

"Same gun different victim?"

"Yep."

"So why didn't we get a match the first time we ran the evidence?"

"Because the case I matched it to wasn't in the system the first time I ran the data."

"You're saying that a stria pattern was entered in the system in the last few hours? What're the odds of that?"

"Pretty amazing really."

"Which lab entered the match?"

"Ours." Calleigh was smirking as she spoke.

Horatio for once found himself lost for words and had to settle for prompting Calleigh to elaborate with a hand gesture.

"Bullet on the right was pulled out of none other than our well connected friend; Mr Jimmy McKellan."

"You're right, that's really interesting." A spark of excitement flared behind Horatio's blue eyes. "So these two cases are linked by more than the vics being employer and employee." Horatio pulled on his bottom lip, thinking deeply.

Horatio looked up to see Eric go hurrying past the door of the ballistics lab a manila folder clutched firmly in his hand. Eric turned his head briefly to look into the lab and when he saw Horatio, tried to stop his forward momentum and swivel himself around all in one go and failed miserably, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"Smooth." Calleigh muttered to herself, chuckling at her fellow CSI's complete lack of grace.

"Were you looking for me by any chance Eric?" Horatio asked, stifling his own grin as Delko regained his balance and jogged red-faced into the room.

"Um, yeah. I just got some results back from DNA." Eric's embarrassment was immediately forgotten as he launched into relaying the results. "DNA collected from the blood spatter and blood pool on the club floor came back to two identifiable donors. One was from Sarah Turner, so it looks like the strip club is definitely our primary scene on that case. The other donor was…"

He didn't get a chance to finish, as the other two investigators put two and two together and beat him to it.

"Jimmy McKellan." Both Horatio and Calleigh finished Eric's sentence for him in unison, leaving the Cuban speechless for a second or two.

"Y'know, I hate it when you guys do that." He grumbled. "How _did_ you know anyway? I know you didn't beat me to the DNA results, I took them out of the printer myself."

Calleigh walked him through the evidence she had explained to Horatio just a few minutes before.

"Oh, and I nearly forgot to mention, something else from the ballistics analysis." Calleigh took a step towards the plasma screen that was still showing the bullet striations. "You see this marking here?" She pointed to a shallow gouge that crossed the bullet's metallic surface at a different angle to the other visible striations. "The general rifling characteristics suggest to me that this projectile was fired from a Taurus pistol. And I've only ever seen this little marking on one model of handgun before, and that's a Taurus 24/7 Pro. It's to do with the fact that the gun has the ability to change from single to double action."

"Can you get hold of a list of registered owners?" Horatio asked as he listened to the information.

"Already done." Calleigh handed over a sheet of paper with a list of names running down the left-hand side and smiled. "Take a look at the name at the top of the list."

"Well, there you go. The world just keeps getting smaller doesn't it?" He paused, running a scenario through his mind.

Calleigh and Eric glanced at each other before returning their gazes towards their boss, both recognising the familiar look on Horatio's face as a bolt of inspiration.

"Eric, We need to go back to that club I think we missed something."

_To be continued…_

_A/N – I have to offer an apology to anyone with any kind of gun knowledge – I know the single action / double action switch wouldn't create a mark on the bullet, and wouldn't allow a search to be narrowed down to one type of firearm, but it was convenient – I'm claiming artistic licence!!!_


	25. Chapter 25

Pushing the flimsy office door open Horatio heard the rasp as the match head was dragged along the rough strip on the side of the matchbox and saw the flare as it ignited. Dillon glanced quickly up as he saw the movement at the open door and smiled at the red-haired Lieutenant as he held the match delicately for a second before opening his thumb and forefinger and allowing the lit match to drop lightly into the metal wastepaper bin. There was a soft _'whoomph'_ as the material within the metal container caught the flame and began to swiftly combust. Horatio took a quick glance around the office, grabbed the small fire-extinguisher that was fixed to the wall next to the door, dispensing the extinguisher's foam onto the flames that were licking the sides of the bin, swiftly putting out the fire before it took hold. Dillon made a sharp move towards the door but his progress was halted by the appearance of Eric Delko who was flanked by two uniformed officers, as well as the daunting figure of Frank Tripp.

"Leaving already Angelo?" Eric asked the club manager, a grim smile on his face.

"You might want to stick around for a few minutes. It should be interesting." Horatio kept his back towards Dillon as he spoke, his eyes fixed on the bin.

"Doing a little clearing out?"

"Yeah, just some junk that I didn't need lying around any more."

"How about your gun Angelo, is that just lying around somewhere too?"

"I don't know what you're talking about man."

"Come on Angelo, about a year and a half ago you registered a Taurus 24/7 Pro pistol. Where is it please?"

"That thing? It got stolen a couple of months ago from my desk. Guess you just can't get the staff these days."

"Did you report this to the police Angelo?"

"Nah, you kiddin' man? The cops ain't gonna knock 'emselves out over findin' a dude's gun. Figured, just chalk it up to experience."

Horatio laughed humourlessly. "Chalk it up to experience." He tilted his head and nodded, a smile that didn't reach his eyes fixed on his face. "How about this for experience Angelo? I figured we missed something last time we were here. So we got our search warrant amended for a return visit."

Right on cue Frank slapped a piece of paper to Angelo's chest, a piece of paper that contained the revised warrant terms.

Horatio walked across the office space in careful, measured steps until he found the spot he was looking for. The boards squeaked and Horatio rocked his foot back and forth to emphasize the noise. Looking towards Angelo with raised eyebrows, a mock surprised expression on his face.

He knelt down, pulling on a pair of latex gloves as he did so and ran his fingers along the line of the floorboards until his touch found the loose one. As he gently pried it up, Horatio tilted his head up so that he could look at the club manager, his face now twisted into a wry smile.

"Well, what d'ya know."

As the board was lifted it revealed a dark space beneath. Horatio quickly retrieved his maglite from his inside jacket pocket and clicked the base to turn on the beam of light. Shining it inside the newly revealed void the light illuminated the brushed chrome surface of a hidden safe.

"Open it." Horatio's words were a command rather than a request.

Angelo remained still, staring defiantly ahead, refusing to look the Lieutenant in the eye. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and his pursed lips spoke of his deep irritation that the cops had finally found his secret hiding place.

"Last chance to help yourself out Mr Dillon. No? Ok then." Turning to Eric, Horatio continued, "Eric, will you get a safe-cracker out here please?"

"No problem H."

"Fine, fine. I'll open it, but I want it on record that I cooperated." Dillon snarled, realising that the safe was going to be opened one way or another.

"The first and only time you've helped this investigation so far Angelo. C'mon then."

Dillon stepped forward and knelt down next to Horatio, spinning the code dial until he heard a series of clicks that indicated the safe was unlocked and then stood up and returned to his position near the door, clearly hoping for an opportunity to make a run for it. Eric had already noted the club manager's intention and shifted his position so that the bulk of his body was filling the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest, which had the effect of flexing his muscular biceps.

Horatio reached in and twisted the handle which gave a soft clunk and opened smoothly. The Lieutenant's face broke into a triumphant smile as he cast his eyes over the newly revealed contents that lay within the safe. He extended his hand inside and retrieved a bulging plastic baggie full of a fine, white powder. Horatio pulled the silver forensics kit that he had initially bought into the room towards him, snapped open the clasps and rooted around in the many compartments for a drug test pod. Each time he performed this test Horatio realised how much he appreciated the advancement of science. Until recently if he'd wanted to test for any of the more commonly encountered recreational drugs he would have needed to carry half the laboratory with him into the field. The _Scott Test_ for cocaine alone had required the use of cobalt thiocyanate, glycerine, hydrochloric acid and chloroform, and while the firms who provided crime labs with their equipment had created smaller, field-kit sized bottles of chemical reagents it still felt like he was dragging around half of the toxicology lab in his kit. Now however, all he needed to do was to scoop a little of the substance in question into a small plastic pouch that measured just a few centimetres in size, break the plastic ampoule inside and watch as the reaction occurred before his very eyes. As he went through the motions with this test substance Horatio watched the pouch turn a deep blue colour, a victorious expression sliding onto his face as he confirmed a positive test for cocaine.

Horatio swivelled his body around so that he was looking at the now red-faced Angelo Dillon, but remained in a kneeling position and lifted the bag up, at the same time cocking one of his eyebrows into a jaunty arch.

"It's just for personal use." Dillon's comment made him sound like a petulant child caught red-handed.

"Mmm, I'm sure. And what about this?" Horatio bought his other hand around delicately holding the butt of a gun that he had also pulled from the storage space. A gun that to any professional was easily recognisable as a Taurus 24/7 Pro handgun.

This time there was no comment, petulant or otherwise forthcoming from the club manager.

"Mr Dillon, you will be placed under arrest initially for the possession of an illegal substance…and when we're done testing this gun I have a strong suspicion that we'll be adding two counts of murder as well."

Frank moved forwards and snapped handcuffs around Dillon's wrists, just tight enough to be uncomfortable, before reading him the Miranda warning that was a compulsory part of the arrest process.

"…Do you understand your rights?"

"Hell yeah, and I want a lawyer."

"Angelo, you're going to need one." Horatio quipped as Angelo was led, snarling, out of the office.

Left to process the evidence, Horatio turned his attention to the bin, the contents of which Dillon had tried unsuccessfully to destroy.

"Eric, lets take a look at what Angelo was so desperate for us not to see."

Eric pulled on a pair of gloves and reached into the bin, extracting a long ribbon of thin plastic.

"Looks like video tape, H. Some fire damage in sections."

Horatio could see, even from some distance away, that Eric was right. In sections the plastic had started to melt and bubble, or else had stretched, the plastic forming strange, almost ornate, drip patterns. And of course now, the remainder of the tape was covered in the foam from the fire extinguisher. Horatio just hoped that what was left of the tape could be rescued by the skills of the lab's AV technician. Dan Cooper was the lab's resident audio-visual specialist, his work had cracked open a number of cases in the recent past. If an investigation called for any technological wizardry then Cooper was the team's first point of call. It still amused Horatio to watch Cooper work on any hardware that the team bought in for analysis, the man could extract time stamps and hidden data with such ease it was like he was born doing it.

"Ok, bag it, tag it and get it back to the lab for Mr Cooper to take a look at please, priority one. Let's see what makes this tape so special."

It took just a few minutes to document and collect the few new items of evidence that were forthcoming from the hidden nook. The knotted tangle of video tape had been lifted out of the wastepaper bin and stored in a sturdy evidence box ready for Cooper. The firearm was similarly boxed ready for dispatch directly to Calleigh in the ballistics lab as soon as they got back to MDPD, and the rest of the evidence had been bagged for trace analysis. As Eric surveyed the evidence in front of him his face knotted up into a frown.

"Something wrong. Eric?" Horatio asked, having noticed the look on the CSI's face.

"It's just too easy. I mean, the gun is hidden right here in Angelo's office, in a safe no-one but him knows exists, alongside enough blow to get most of South Beach high, and who knows what's on the video that he was trying to burn."

"Your point?"

"Well, it's just a bit convenient isn't it? I know Angelo's hardly on the A-list when it comes to criminals, but even an amateur would know to get rid of the incriminating evidence when the cops start looking at them for the hit."

Horatio's mouth twitched up at the corners a little. He walked over to the window and beckoned for Eric to follow him.

"Take a look out in the parking lot. What d'ya see?"

"Patrol car." Eric shrugged, after all the whole place was now surrounded with patrol cars, in the back of Eric's mind a thought niggled at his consciousness questioning whether his boss wasn't starting to lose the plot a bit.

"Well, that particular patrol car has been tailing Dillon ever since we got the first callout to the break-in at Sarah Turner's apartment."

And suddenly it was like a light had been switched on in Delko's brain.

"So if Dillon knew he was being tailed he wouldn't have a chance to get rid of the evidence, he'd think that anything he threw away would be collected by the cops trailing him. He had to hide the stuff until the heat was off him."

"Or until he was desperate. Exactly."

Angelo Dillon had already departed with the uniformed officers leaving Tripp and the CSIs to make their way out of the club and back to the lab. As they walked across the main floor of the club they were met by two stocky men both dressed from head to toe in black. Horatio recognised one of them as being the security guard who had questioned his presence at the club when he had bought Grace here for that first meeting with her estranged sister all those weeks ago. Initially, however, it was not the man's face that had caught Horatio's attention, but rather his footwear. His drab outfit was finished off with a scuffed pair of Harley Davidson boots. Horatio's mind flicked back to the team debriefing after Sarah's initial disappearance and remembered Eric's discovery that the tread impression on the door was from the same kind of boot.

"Gentlemen." Horatio greeted the pair as they approached. Both looked a little startled, which Horatio put down to the possibility that neither of them had ever been addressed by the title 'gentleman' before. "Horatio Caine, Eric Delko, we're with the crime lab." There were muttered grunts in response. "We would like to take prints from your shoes, so that we can exclude you from our investigation." What he didn't add was the thought that was whizzing through his mind, _'or prove you were a part of it.'_

"Eh, sure knock yourselves out." The guard with the Harley Davidson boots shrugged his shoulders as he acquiesced and stooped down to remove first one boot and then the other.

Buoyed by his companion's action the second guard also began to remove his footwear, and a few minutes later the two CSIs left the club adding a series of tread prints to the other evidence they'd already collected, a distinct spring in both their steps.

_To be continued…_


	26. Chapter 26

The computer beeped as Eric clicked a series of keys on the keyboard pulling up the files he needed.

"Yep. We have a match. The wear pattern is identical." Eric looked up from the computer triumphantly. He had scanned in the prints that he had taken from the guards at the strip-club and overlaid them with the original print pattern lifted from the door of Sarah Turner's apartment. The first set he had scanned in had produced a negative result, and Eric had embarked on the test of the second bouncer's boots with fingers crossed. Delko stepped back from the screen and allowed Horatio to take a look at the comparison, over which a large green message was flashing 'positive match'.

"So, we can place our little friend at Sarah's apartment." Horatio mused. In his mind he saw the picture unfold, like a private video screening.

_The bouncers from the strip club mounted the stairs up to Sarah's apartment, the one in front checking a scrap of paper that was clenched in his bulky fist every now and again until they reached the apartment they were looking for. A short grunt to his companion directed him to stand to the other side of the door and watch out for any nosey neighbours. _

_The tapping on the door brought Sarah's attention from the closet, where she was sporadically grabbing clothes from hangers and stuffing them into a case that lay open on the bed. As quietly as she could she crept out of the bedroom and over to the door. Peaking out of the spy-hole in the door her heart missed a beat as she recognised Mike and Sam, the thugs that Angelo hired as security at the club. Her mind gradually filling with a panic induced fog, she stumbled backwards, the step she took to stop herself from falling landed on a loose floorboard that gave an echoing creak._

_Outside the door Sam leant back from the door, where he had been trying unsuccessfully to make anything out through the spy-hole, he grinned as he heard the creak._

"_Hello sweetie." He whispered triumphantly, then pounded on the door. "Open the goddam door Bitch, or I'll kick it open." _

_Down the hall there was a sharp click as one of the neighbours opened their door to find out what all the noise was about. All it took was for Mike to withdraw the gun from the waistband of his jeans and the would-be onlooker retreated back inside their apartment. He could hear the series of clicks and clanks as doors were locked and chains slid across all down the corridor, he allowed himself a smile before turning his attention back to his partner and the job at hand._

"_I ain't gonna ask again Bitch. Open the damn door."_

_When there was still no response Sam took a step back from the door and with all his force bought his boot crashing into the wooden door which cracked and splintered from the onslaught. As the door fell, the two thugs caught a glimpse of flesh as Sarah ran into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. Another swift kick sent that door the same way as the first, and Sam burst into the room to find Sarah half-way out of the window onto the fire escape. He lunged forward and grabbed Sarah around her upper arm, pulling her back into the room and flinging her onto the bed. As she raised herself up he swung a fist and landed a blow to her jaw, sending a mist of blood and saliva spraying onto the white wall. The blow knocked her out and her body slumped limply back onto the mattress. _

"So we've got the hired goon bang to rights."

"You got it H. What's your next move?"

"Well, I'm going to see a woman about a gun, and see if we can throw the wannabe Mafia boss into the deal too."

Horatio paused as he reached the ballistics lab and looked through the glass that encased the room. The central area of the ballistics lab held much of the high-tech equipment that the team, or more accurately, Calleigh, would use on the day-to-day processing of ballistics evidence. Leading off from this main work space were doors that led to the mini shooting range, used for test-firing weapons and creating exemplar rounds from seized firearms amongst other things. Another, somewhat more secure door, Horatio knew led into the gun vault where the department's firearms collection was housed. The blonde haired CSI was currently working in the central area of the lab, her attention focused on the view from the comparison microscope, although with Horatio's arrival she looked up from the eyepieces of the equipment as if sensing his presence.

Not wanting to disturb Calleigh if her comparison was still ongoing, Horatio remained outside the lab. He raised his hand, and with an open palm bought his thumb and forefinger together to make a circle in the commonly recognised diving hand signal for 'ok'. He accompanied the hand gesture with raised eyebrows, setting his face into a questioning look. Calleigh understood perfectly, responding with a wide grin and mirrored Horatio's hand signal which she followed by a thumbs-up, indicating that her investigation had resulted in a positive outcome, a test-fired bullet from the gun had provided a positive match to the projectiles that had killed the two victims. A feeling of satisfaction washed through Horatio's body as he realised they were more than halfway towards nailing Angelo for these murders.

Knowing now that his presence wouldn't disturb Calleigh's process of working, Horatio took a step forward, intending to walk into the lab and let Calleigh revel in her discovery. But before he had made it halfway through the door to the lab his motion was halted as a sharp yelp echoed down the corridor from one of the other labs, closely followed by a strangled cry that sounded like a cross between someone in pain and the phrase '_Eureka_'. The unexpected noise bought people's heads poking out of the rooms that lined the main corridor through CSI and Horatio was reminded of a documentary that he'd once seen on meercats. Most people took a look around, trying to locate the source of the disturbance and when they caught sight of Horatio, jumped straight back into their respective labs to continue whatever analysis they had recently abandoned, anxious not to let the boss find them away from their stations.

"What in the heck was that?" Calleigh pondered the thought out loud as she pushed through the door of the ballistics lab and came to a halt at Horatio's side.

"Don't quote me, but I'd guess that our AV specialist has found a new way of telling us that our results are ready without picking up a phone." Horatio grinned.

"Well then, let's go see what's got Coop all fired up, huh?"

A few seconds later the pair had covered the short distance to their destination and were slipping inside the doorway to the AV lab. Hearing their footsteps on the hard floor, Cooper turned around, a wide grin still plastered on his face.

"You hollered Mr Cooper?" Horatio greeted the tech with a smile.

"Um, yeah, sorry about that, but you gotta check this out." Cooper's face turned red, and he turned back to his workstation to try and disguise his embarrassment. "By the way that tape was twisted, melted and covered in fire-extinguisher foam, if I didn't know better I'd say you guys were trying to test me."

"You making excuses already Coop?" Eric quipped as he poked his head into the AV lab, a wide grin on his face.

"Oh ye of little faith Delko. I took your mass of mangled tape, ran it through a cleansing solution, put it onto a spool and digitised it so I could repair some of the less damaged sections, et voila." Cooper leaned back in his chair and hit a button on the console that sat on the desk in front of him and instantly a grainy image appeared on the monitor. The picture was a little scratched, but there was no mistaking the scene, the main floor of the club. Suddenly the picture went black for a few seconds and then returned.

"That bit of the tape was melted, there's a couple of sections like that, but luckily for us the best bit's still intact." Pressing a few more buttons Cooper whizzed the recording forward until figures could be scene moving on the screen. Front and centre was Jimmy McKellan, despite the grainy film quality it was obvious he was wearing an expensive designer suit, and yelling at someone who was concealed in the shadows to the side of the camera picture. There was a short flash of light, apparently caused by whoever Jimmy had been shouting at firing a gun.

"Oh yeah, that's definitely a muzzle-flash." Calleigh murmured from Horatio's side.

The effect was instantaneous; McKellan was thrown backwards by the force of the projectile impact and he lay writhing on the floor for a couple of seconds before becoming perfectly still, a dark red puddle gradually spreading out from his now motionless form as he bled out. There was a movement at the corner of the picture and a figure that was easily identifiable as Angelo Dillon stepped out of the shadows just before the screen went blank again.

"The next section's melted again."

"Well the video puts Dillon there as a definite accomplice, but we can't prove from the tape that he was the one that fired the gun, the son of a bitch stays in the shadows until the shot's been fired." Delko said, the frustration clearly evident in his voice.

Cooper cleared his throat and flexed his fingers, bringing the investigators' attention back to him.

"And any lesser tech would have sent you off to rely on fingerprint matches on the weapon, but I am nothing if not thorough. Take a look at this." Cooper clicked the mouse button and dragged an image set from a file he had open in another section of the screen. Another click played a short section of the security video in a loop, this short clip showed the muzzle flash from the gun. Cooper paused the video at a frame when the flash was brightest and zoomed in closer. As he ran the still frame through image enhancement software the re-pixelated image showed more detail allowing the CSIs to see a clearly defined face, highlighted by the light from the muzzle flash.

"Hello, Angelo." Horatio's triumphant mutter was little more than a growl. "Nice work Mr Cooper, very nice work." He patted the technician on the shoulder.

Just as Horatio, Eric and Calleigh reached the door to the AV lab Cooper spun his chair around to face them.

"Hey where are you guys going? You haven't seen the grand finale yet."

"You got more than catching Jimmy McKellan's killer on tape?"

"Yep. I know why Angelo killed Sarah Turner."

There was a pause, as the CSIs looked at each other, and then back to Cooper.

"How in the heck did you work that out?" Calleigh asked in surprise.

"I told you, I'm thorough." Cooper smirked, but straightened his face, becoming instantly more professional when he saw Horatio's expression. It was easy when you dealt with this kind of thing on a daily basis to forget that the pixelated figures that he worked on were real people, and had real families that would mourn their loss. Having a connection to the victim, however tenuous, through Horatio somehow made this murder more real than others Cooper had worked on.

With no more idle banter Cooper zoomed in tight on another area of the video.

"When I was studying the video I noticed a movement that shouldn't have been there. Look at the mirror behind the bar."

Sure enough, when he played the tape there was movement.

"There's someone crawling behind the bar." Calleigh's eyes were wide. "Ok, run it again…ok stop. Pause it there, whoever it is looks up for a second."

The captured image took just a couple of seconds to run through the enhancement software.

"That's Sarah." Horatio sighed as he recognised the young woman.

"And here's why they went after her." Cooper played the last few seconds of the tape before the picture succumbed to fire damage. Angelo's head jerked towards the bar, clearly aware that someone was there.

"My guess is that she made a noise, perhaps she jumped when Angelo fired and bumped into something, but he definitely knows someone's there."

"She saw Angelo kill McKellan, somehow she managed to get back to her apartment, but it looks like Dillon sent his goons after her. That explains why she was trying to pack some clothes, she was going to run." Eric put the last pieces into place.

"Ok guys, let's get our ducks in a row and take this to the state prosecutor."

"What about Dillon? He's sitting in an interview room with his attorney."

"Let him wait. We don't exactly need a confession on this one, that video alone is enough to put the needle in his arm. I'll go and have a chat with Mr Dillon in a little while. Right now I have something I have to do." Horatio called over his shoulder as he strode out of the room.

"Nice work Cooper."

"Yeah, nice one, man."

Eric and Calleigh both gave him a pat on the shoulder before they left.

"What can I say? I'm just amazing…and don't you forget it." His last phrase echoed down the corridor after them.

"He's going to be insufferably smug now, you know that right?" Eric rolled his eyes at Calleigh as he spoke.

"Well, I guess he's earned a bit of smugness after that result." Calleigh grinned.

To be continued…

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_A/N – __**Thank-you**__ for your wonderful reviews guys – they've really spurred me on._

_TenFour – Glad it's been informative. You wouldn't believe the little titbits of info I've picked up while I've been writing this._

_Quiet-heart – I'm so pleased you look forward to the new chapters, I still get all excited every time I post them (and when I see I've got a new review). I'm glad I can brighten up the requisite daily trawl through junk email. (I get a mountain of the stuff every day and strangely I've never yet been tempted to purchase a pair of garden shears shaped like a three legged rabbit or a tape-measure made entirely from spaghetti or some equally ridiculous product that the advertisements say I can't live without!)_

_RedHotLover – Thank-you!! No-one could ask for more of a compliment than that! (love your screen name by the way ;-) ) I'm glad I've tempted you to join this wonderful community._


	27. Chapter 27

A few blocks down the road from the MDPD building, nestled in amongst the austere facades of big business premises sat a little diner called Ruffins. No gaudy neon lights or six-foot tall billboards advertised the existence of this little eating place, but the queue for a table often snaked out of the door. It was just somewhere that you got to hear about from a friend, and once you'd eaten there you wanted to go back again and again. Word of mouth was the best kind of advertising around for this particular eatery. Ruffins's owner was a middle aged woman with an easy smile and a wicked sense of humour. Annie Ruffin was a born and bred Miamian with a mother from New Orleans and a father from Jamaica, who, in some might say a fit of madness, decided to abandon their home towns and make a new start in the city that was known the world over as the cultural melting pot of America. Annie had put the eclectic mix of cultures that she had experienced at home to good use in her chosen career as a restaurateur, putting a hotch-potch of dishes from both cultures on the menu as well as a sprinkling of recipes she'd picked up from her own worldwide travels along with a good, healthy dollop of Cuban cuisine which you'd be hard-pushed to find better cooked anywhere else, even on the many restaurants that spread the length of Calle Ocho, the city's Cuban dominated highway.

It's prime location amongst some of the biggest business premises meant that Annie was fending off offers to buy her plot of land almost as often as she served up a great plate of food, and Horatio doubted that she'd ever served up anything that wasn't mouth-wateringly tasty. The problem was that the real estate was so valuable that some of these friendly offers went a little sour when they met with Annie's somewhat determined rebuttal of their offers, her attitude maintained that she'd built a home as well as a business on this plot and she'd be damned if some jumped up version of a used car salesman in a fancy thousand dollar suit was going to force her out.

It was during one of these less than friendly buyout offers that Horatio had first encountered Annie, and her wonderful cooking. The latest wannabe property broker extraordinaire had decided a campaign of vandalism would prove to Annie that the neighbourhood wasn't safe for her to stay in any more. What he hadn't counted on was the fact that Annie was more than capable of fending off intruders and in fact kept a particularly heavy skillet handy for just that reason. The young man, dressed from head to toe in black, slid quietly in through the kitchen window in the dead of night, carefully avoiding the pile of freshly scrubbed pots sitting in a pile to one side. Pleased with himself that he had managed to identify the pots hazard and therefore enter with little more than a quiet creak as he'd pried the window open, his elation hadn't lasted long, in fact only long enough for Annie, who had watched his progress from the kitchen's shadowy recesses to shake her head in irritation and then swing the hefty pan, which connected with his skull with a satisfying 'thunk'.

Horatio had been part of the on-call team that night, he'd arrived at the tiny diner to find a scattering of emergency vehicles in attendance, the paramedics had already removed the would-be home invader, treating him for concussion. Horatio had studied the scene and declared it a straight-forward home-invasion, and that Annie was quite within her rights to take the action she had. From that moment another firm friendship had blossomed, and Horatio had gained a favourite place to eat, in fact Ruffins had been one of the places that Horatio had shown Grace on the first day he had met her.

Today, Horatio pushed open the door into Ruffins and stood just inside for a second, pulling off his shades and allowing his eyes to acclimatise to the change in brightness, and feeling the cool ripple of the air conditioning unit running across his skin. The midday rush had passed, and although the diner was still fairly busy, there were vacant tables dotted here and there. Sending a quick greeting wave towards Annie, who was standing behind the counter, Horatio scanned the rest of the diner and found Grace sitting in one of the booths towards the back of the room, she had a book raised in front of her face, Horatio recognised the cover from one of the current bestsellers. Horatio paused as he drew near to her, studying her, and as he watched he realised that the book was just a front. Her eyes were fixed on one point on the page, not scanning the text as you would normally expect. The book was merely a prop, something to keep her hand occupied, and while she was there in body her mind was miles away. He reminded himself what she had said to him,

"_Well, I guess I have good days and bad days…"_ Judging by her far-away look, this was one of her not-so-good days.

Horatio slid into the booth opposite Grace, it was a testament to how deep in thought she actually was that she didn't even notice his arrival until he cleared his throat. This gentle noise served to bring Grace out of her reverie and lower the book, looking around for the source of the interruption. She jumped sharply when she found Horatio sitting so close, and he had to work hard not to laugh, reminding himself quickly the sombre purpose for this impromptu meeting.

"Horatio! How long have you been sitting there?" She pushed a scrap pf paper that was currently doubling as an bookmark back in amongst the pages of the book and laid it to one side as she spoke.

"Long enough to know you've got a lot on your mind." His reply was delivered with what he hoped was a comforting smile.

"I guess." She smiled, a little colour raised on her cheeks. "So normally I'd ask you what kind of day you're having, but to be honest I don't know if I want to hear your answer."

Horatio reached across the smooth plastic-coated surface of the table and took her hand in his, bringing her line of sight, that had dropped downwards, up to his face, where her eyes once again met his.

"Grace, we got him. We made an arrest, and I have enough evidence to put this guy on death row."

Grace remained perfectly still, the only part of her body that moved were her eyes, which lifted to the ceiling as she tried to process the information that her ears had sent to her brain. A few seconds passed, and she sighed, returning her gaze to meet Horatio's.

"You know I thought it would feel different, when you told me you'd caught whoever... I mean I always knew you would, but I just thought I'd feel…well…something, but you've just said the phrase that I'd been dying to hear for so long, and I don't feel anything. I didn't know whether I was going to feel happy, or angry, or sad, but I didn't expect to feel like nothing changed. It doesn't bring Sarah back though does it? I mean we'll never go and get coffee together again, I'll still never have the chance to get to know her…I…I…" Grace's speech faded, tears forming in her eyes.

Horatio simply sat, his hand still covering hers, gripping a little tighter than he had at first, so much so that he could actually feel her pulse. Horatio had seen people deal with death in a multitude of ways, and he knew that everyone reacted differently, but one thing he did know was that he had to let her get out some of the things that were flying around inside her head. He didn't care if she was going to completely break down, or be sick, or get angry with the nearest person (which just so happened to be him), it didn't matter how she reacted, he was going to be there for her, leading her through the darkness and guiding her towards the light. Expecting an emotional rollercoaster either way, he was slightly surprised when Grace's breathing became more regular and she actually smiled, a weak smile, true, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"You ok?"

"You know what? I think I am. Well, kinda."

"It's ok to be upset."

"Oh I know, and I know that there are going to be times in the coming weeks, months and years, heck for the rest of my life when I'm gonna get sad because I think about Sarah, but right now," she squeezed Horatio's hand, "right now I know I've found someone that's gonna stick by me no matter how I feel." She paused before continuing with a conspiratorial wink. "Just to clarify, that's you by the way. I don't think you have any idea just how comforting that thought is Horatio."

Horatio visibly blushed, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that Grace was so strong, so much stronger than he'd been when he'd lost Ray, when he'd lost Marisol, damn it, when he'd lost his mother, his mentor and his friend. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the ringing of his cell phone which was muffled slightly by the material of his jacket. Horatio cursed silently and threw an apologetic look in Grace's direction. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and flipped open the cover.

"Caine."

"H," Horatio instantly recognised Delko's voice, "sorry to disturb, but Dillon's lawyer is gettin' a bit fidgety, he's started shouting about harassment, says he's taking his client out of here if no-one comes to interview him soon."

"Ok, thanks for the heads up Eric, I'm on my way, but in the meantime please remind Mr Dillon's lawyer that his client is under arrest for narcotics distribution and two counts of homicide and will not be going anywhere."

"Gotcha, H."

Horatio closed the phone again with a snap and turned back towards Grace.

"Go. I'll be fine." Grace's smile was comforting, and stopped Horatio from asking if she was sure.

"I have to…"

"I know, go and throw the book at him Horatio." Grace leant her head down and placed a soft kiss on Horatio's hand.

"Do you feel up to going out later?" He wasn't sure whether he should even ask, and even as the words were coming out of his mouth he regretted it. _What a stupid thing to suggest, the woman's got a lot to deal with_. He mentally kicked himself for his lack of compassion, but her response surprised him.

"Sure." She smiled.

_Yes_, Horatio thought, _she was definitely much stronger than him._

"Ok, so I'll see you about eight then?"

"You bet."

Horatio took a few steps away from his seat before changing his mind, stopping in his tracks and turning. He leaned over towards Grace, lifting her face towards his with a finger underneath her chin before brushing his lips softly against hers in a gentle embrace. Horatio smiled as he pulled away and turned, walking swiftly towards the door of the restaurant.

_To be continued…_

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_A/N – _

_Shannon McMichael – Thank-you! Glad you're enjoying it._

_Mac's Girl – You most certainly can say all those wonderful things! Although my head has swelled with the praise, and now I'm not certain if I'll make it out of the door. Glad you like the funny bits, I wasn't sure anyone would get my sense of humour._

_TenFour – More H and Grace interaction? You better believe it!!_

_Hope y'all enjoyed this next instalment. _


	28. Chapter 28

Horatio breezed back into the MDPD building a few minutes later and headed on through the labyrinth of corridors that eventually led into the crime lab, gradually psyching himself up on the journey, preparing for the upcoming interview. As he passed the trace lab Horatio noticed the figure of Ryan Wolfe leafing through a stack of files to one side of the clinical room. Horatio grabbed hold of one of the wall stanchions and used his momentum to swing him back around, coming to a stop. He pushed the glass door open and moved through it, joining the younger CSI in the lab.

"Mr Wolfe, are you dealing with something urgent?"

"Um, no, not really H."

"Good, I could use your help with this interview."

"You mean the Dillon interview? Me? But I…But you're the lead investigator on this case."

"Mr Wolfe, the McKellan case was yours, just because our two cases have become linked that doesn't mean that you stop being a lead investigator. You worked hard on this, you should be a part of nailing his killer."

"I never…I mean I…" Ryan's speech faded off as he failed to find the right words. "Thanks H. Give me a few minutes to get rid of this," he motioned towards his lab coat, "and I'll meet you upstairs." Ryan pushed his way through the door of the trace lab and disappeared down the corridor, a proud grin plastered on his face.

Horatio stood and watched him go, considering Ryan oozed confidence for most of his working day, Horatio saw that the young man was really quite insecure within his own mind. The sure-footed bravado that he openly displayed was merely a sham in front of his colleagues. That was something they'd have to work on.

Horatio pushed open the glass door to the interview room and walked in, a purposeful confidence in his stride, dropping the case file on the table as he reached it. Angelo Dillon sat to one side of the room, his head cradled in his hands, Horatio wasn't entirely sure if he was asleep or merely deep in thought, trying to find a way to wheedle his way out of his current predicament. Having known people like Dillon for much of his life Horatio imagined that it was most likely the latter. Dillon's lawyer was cast into silhouette by the glare of the fierce Miami sun streaming through the latticed windows, as he looked out over the plaza in front of the police building. Both men turned to look towards Horatio as he dropped the file onto the desk.

"Well, it's about damn time." As the lawyer turned the sun illuminated his features just enough to allow Horatio to recognise him as the middle-aged, slightly balding Henry Gardell, the on-call legal lackey of many of Miami's crime families, many deeply involved with the Mafia. "You have no right to keep my client waiting for so long, it's completely unnecessary Lieutenant Caine."

"Unfortunately gentlemen," Horatio paused as he used the word 'gentlemen' to illustrate that he used the term in it's loosest possible sense, "I have been dealing with another element of the case that has arisen from Mr Dillon's actions."

"_Alleged_ actions Lieutenant. I've seen no evidence to prove that my client is guilty of these frankly ludicrous charges." The lawyer delivered his statement with a sickly sweet smile.

"Save your legal bullshit for the courtroom Gardell." It was Ryan that piped up from the position he had assumed at the door. Horatio shot him a little warning glance before he turned back to Angelo and his lawyer.

"I'm sure that what Mr Wolfe meant to say Mr Gardell, is stick around you're in for a treat. You want proof? I'll give you enough proof to swim in. And with the evidence I've got against your client, I think we can drop the 'alleged'."

Horatio flipped open the manila folder that he had previously tossed onto the smooth surface of the table. The first photograph he came to showed the gun that they had recovered from Angelo's concealed safe, which Calleigh had matched to the rounds they had pulled out of both Jimmy McKellan and Sarah Turner.

"Now, I have the gun that you used to shoot Mr McKellan." Gardell looked as if he was about to raise some sort of objection to Horatio's phrase, but managed to restrain himself and remain silent. Horatio nodded almost imperceptibly in acknowledgement of the lawyer's wise decision and continued. The next few photographs were a series of stills taken from the security tape, the final picture showing the muzzle flash illuminating the face of the shooter. "And I've got a security video that shows you using that gun to shoot James McKellan. Now seeing as how I can without any doubt put the gun in your hand and your finger on the trigger for one murder, I doubt that I will have any problem in persuading a jury that you are also responsible for the murder of Sarah Turner, who you will undoubtedly know better by her stage name of Phoenix, especially since I also have your hired goons in custody. So just to clarify gentlemen, I don't need a confession, to be honest I don't particularly want a confession, but I have to give you the opportunity, and I have to remind you that it might just put the Judge in a better mood when he's deciding whether to put you behind bars for the rest of your miserable life, or strap you to a table and pump a fatal cocktail of chemicals into your blood-stream. It's your choice."

Both Dillon and Gardell seemed completely shocked by Horatio's forthright attitude, and for a few seconds after he'd stopped speaking neither man moved, both staring at the red-haired CSI. Then, as if someone had thrown a switch, both men turned to each other and started whispering furiously.

"Lieutenant Caine, I need a privileged conversation with my client." Henry Gardell turned back to Horatio as he made the request.

Horatio simply nodded and turned, walking out of the interview room without another word, closely followed by Ryan Wolfe. The pair wandered over and leant against one of the currently empty desks in the bull pen. Both men wore slightly smug looks, which was not their usual reaction to being evicted from their interview room so that a lawyer could have a private conversation with his client. Usually they would be annoyed to the extreme by this delay in proceedings, but not this time, this time they felt almost jubilant. This was because they both knew exactly how the conversation was going behind the soundproofed glass walls of the interview room, and they had a pretty concrete idea of what the outcome of that conversation was going to be.

Horatio's phone chirruped and he pulled it out of his pocket and answered it.

"Caine…Mm-hmm, yes Ma'am we're in the process of doing just that…Mm-hmm…"

Wolfe remained seated next to his boss, casting his eyes between the interview room and Horatio, whose tone of voice had changed almost imperceptibly since he had answered the call, but it was still a difference that Ryan could pick up on. As Horatio flipped the cell phone shut Ryan turned to him, features arranged into a questioning expression.

"Prosecutor." Horatio growled in explanation. "She wants a confession."

"What, all the evidence we've got isn't enough?"

"Apparently not. I've been given the go-ahead to take the death penalty off the table if that's what it takes to get a confession. The condition is that she wants him to give a full confession to both murders and talk to someone from narco about the drug supply chain that he's part of."

"If I didn't know better I'd think she doesn't trust our evidence."

"Rumours of a dirty lab, Mr Wolfe, spread far and wide and we're not free from scrutiny after the FBI's witch-hunt just yet. I guess she's just covering her bases, no-one wants this perp to walk on a technicality."

A cough bought the CSIs' attention back towards their suspect, where they found Dillon's lawyer standing outside, beckoning them to return with his hand.

"Showtime, Mr Wolfe." Horatio said as he pushed himself off the desk straight into a determined stride across the floor towards the waiting lawyer.

Gardell met them outside the open door to the interview room.

"Lieutenant Caine, Officer Wolfe." He nodded his head curtly in greeting before he contined. "My client would like to know what your terms are."

"Mr Gardell, I believe that I have already outlined our terms. You have seen some of the evidence that we have collected which proves your client shot James McKellan and Sarah Turner. He needs to decide if he wants to confess to these crimes or let the evidence speak for him."

"If he were to make a full confession, and until we have agreed terms lieutenant, you understand that this conversation is purely hearsay, then I want to see the death penalty withdrawn as a possible sentence."

"You want me to take the death penalty away as an option for a confession that we don't need to convict? I'm sorry councillor that's not going to happen."

Ryan took a quick glance over at his boss, wondering what he was doing. Hadn't the prosecutor just said he had that authority to assure the lawyer that the death penalty wouldn't be an option? Horatio's face was unreadable, not giving anything away, and Ryan realised that Horatio would be a formidable opponent to play poker against.

"My client is a knowledgeable man, Lieutenant Caine, he is willing to provide valuable information in exchange for his life."

Horatio pretended to consider this offer before speaking.

"Very well, Mr Gardell, the terms stand thus; I want detailed information on the narcotics supply ring Mr Dillon is part of, the whole lot, I want names, dates and locations. I also want some information regarding the Miami crime families. I want to know how Mr Dillon is involved in the Mafia network and again I want names, dates and locations. Then and only then will I take the death penalty off the table."

"Surely you realise that what you are proposing may very well equate to a death penalty for my client at the hands of some of the most powerful men in the city." By 'most powerful men' Horatio correctly assumed that Gardell was referring to Mafia representatives.

"Mr Gardell, it's your client's choice, either the state convicts and applies the death penalty, and I will make sure that that is the outcome if he doesn't take the terms, or he takes a chance and gets some sort of police protection behind bars. Take it or leave it."

Gardell huffed and then turned to look at his client through the glass of the interview room and nodded once, suggesting to Horatio that they had already discussed this possibility. Dillon paused for a second before lowering his eyes and nodding in response.

"Very well. Gentlemen, I believe we have a deal." He motioned for Horatio and Ryan to re-enter the room which contained his client.

"So Angelo, your lawyer Mr Gardell here, thinks you have something that might make me not want to push for the lethal injection in your case. You want to enlighten me?"

"This how it's gonna be Caine? You gonna make me spell it all out for you?"

"Well that's generally how a confession works Angelo. Let me start you off, did you kill Jimmy McKellan and Sarah Turner?"

Angelo scowled at Horatio.

"Yeah, I killed 'em. Listen, I worked my butt off for McKellan for years, I ran his coke for him, I cleaned up any problems he had, made sure no-one disrespected him. He recognised that, made me his second in command. Then that one night he comes in and starts yelling that I've been skimming from his coke supply, says his profits are down, wants to know what I'm gonna do to pay him back."

"So you shot him."

"Yeah. There were some kids causing trouble out the back of the club earlier in the evening, turning over trash cans, spraying graffiti, y'know the sorta thing. I fired a couple of rounds into the air to get rid of 'em. Still had the gun tucked in the waistband of my jeans when Jimmy came in shoutin' his mouth off. I figured shootin' him worked well for me all round. I shut him up for lyin' bout me, and I get to take his place as boss."

"So under your arrangement, you stood to inherit all of McKellan's business assets in the event of his death."

"Yeah, I get to pull the strings, get to have some poor guy schlep for me for a change."

"So you wouldn't just inherit McKellan's physical business assets like the club, but you'd also assume his place in the crime syndicate too."

"Yup. But then you and your stinkin' team got involved, who knew killin' some worthless stripper would be such a problem."

"Actually I have a question about that. If she was nothing more than a 'worthless stripper' as you so eloquently put it, why go to all the trouble of killing her and dumping the body?"

"Phoenix was the one skimming from McKellan's stash. She'd already asked for a hit of blow that night but said she couldn't pay for it right now. Told her to get lost, I don't give out no free samples. Anyhow, when I gave Jimmy his injection of lead I heard a noise behind the bar, but it wasn't til I watched the security tape back I saw her sneaking behind the bar. The bitch was tapping my supply of snow. Besides, Mike, one of my bouncers, had already warned me about her, said some cop had been to see her. I wasn't about to let the little whore tap my stash and then dime me out to the cops, and I wasn't about to let the only witness to Jimmy's murder go free was I? I'm not stupid Caine."

Horatio made a non-committal kind of noise that conveyed the message that this last statement was yet to be corroborated.

"So you sent your pals around to pick her up."

"Yeah. Michael Espinosa and Samuel Canton. They're the club bouncers and my go-to guys when I need something done. They bought her back with a bloody nose and fighting like a wildcat. Pity really, the kid had attitude. I told her that if she promised to keep quiet I'd let her live. Poor kid actually believed me." Angelo laughed mirthlessly. "When she turned to walk outta the club I shot her once in the back and then in the head." He mimed a gun with his fingers and aimed at Horatio's chest and then his head as he spoke.

"So you got your 'go-to guys' to dump the bodies."

"In the Miami River. I heard that Jimmy made it all the way down to Brickell Park." Another laugh, and Horatio pushed his chair back and stood up, disgusted by the lack of humanity displayed by the individual in front of him.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

"So?" Calleigh asked the question before they had even entered the layout room.

"Full confession. Angelo copped to both murders provided we took the death penalty off the table." Ryan answered before Horatio even had time to draw breath.

"Well I should think so too." Calleigh beamed.

"Someone from the narcotics squad's coming down to talk to him about the drug ring McKellan was running tomorrow." Ryan was beaming now.

"And he's agreed to give us some of the dirt on members of the Miami Mafia, although I'd like to keep the last bit of information quiet if we can. I don't want the Feebs muscling in and taking over. You know what they're like, the FBI's monthly budget for housing informants is more than the annual forensics budget for the entire state of Florida, and I don't want Angelo ending up staying in a five-star hotel eating fillet steak every night. He really doesn't deserve it."

"Amen to that." Eric chipped in. "So anyone wanna go out for a couple of drinks to celebrate one less scumbag on the streets after shift?"

"Yeah, I'll go along with that." Natalia was the first to agree, beaming a wide smile in Eric's direction.

"Me too." Ryan nodded vigorously.

"Well, y'all know I can't resist a chance to let my hair down." Calleigh laughed.

"Sorry guys, I'm gonna have to take a rain-check. I have plans." Horatio was sure pretty much all the members of his team had a good idea what his plans were and were dying to tease him, but caught Calleigh giving them each a stern stare. It was a good thing to have Calleigh watching your back.

"Well ok then. How about we drag Cooper along too? Y'know, get Casper out of the lab for once and let him get some sun."

"Ok guys have a good time, and I want to see bright faces in the morning, so no hangovers, deal?"

There was a full round of responses as each member of the team replied

"Deal."

"In that case, the first round of drinks are on me." Horatio held up a couple of bills. He laughed at the incredulous looks on the faces of his team. "Hey I don't want you lot telling everyone I don't get the drinks in."

Calleigh took the cash from his hand and as the rest of the team filed out of the room, when she was sure no-one was watching she reached up and gave Horatio a peck on the cheek.

"What was that for?"

"I'm just glad that this all worked out and that you're ok." She smiled and started to follow her team-mates out of the layout room. Horatio's call made her turn back as she reached the door.

"Cal?"

"Yessir?"

"Thanks."

"What for?"

"For being my rock."

"Any time, H."

_To be continued…_

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_A/N – Lakshimbai – Thank-you! I have to admit I've become very fond of Grace myself while I've been writing this, she's definitely going to be making a repeat appearance in future. I don't think anything would stop me from writing fanfics now – I've got the bug + although we're getting close to the end of 'Chasing Phoenix' there's a couple of intriguing plot bunnies forming in my brain that are demanding mercilessly to be written._

_TenFour – Thank-you! Me thinks (although I'm not sure yet) that Annie (and her sturdy skillet) may just appear in a one-shot, expanding on how H met her._

_Mac's Girl – Bows humbly offering up a new chapter Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long…hehe._

_**And now, on with the fluff….**_


	29. Chapter 29

Horatio glanced in the Hummer's rear-view mirror and fussed with his hair a little. It looked fine, but he was feeling fidgety and needed something to do with his hands or he'd go crazy. Finally he swung open the door to the Hummer and climbed out.

Approaching the main door to her building he pressed the intercom button that would buzz up to Grace's apartment.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Come on up. I'll be ready in just a second."

Horatio heard the rumble of the door mechanism as it clicked open and he pushed through into the cool climate of the air-conditioned hallway.

Horatio knocked lightly on the door, and heard a soft tap, tap, tap as Grace walked across the room to answer it, and then the scrape and clank as the chain was drawn back. The door opened and for a moment Horatio was stunned to silence as he took in the sight before him. Grace stood in the doorway, dressed in a silky black dress that clung to her athletic figure in all the right places, her honey-blonde hair was pulled up into an elegant knot. A pair of killer heels increased her height by several inches and accentuated her toned calf muscles. Horatio's mouth flapped open and closed as he tried to force himself to speak.

"Well I'll take that as a good sign." Grace laughed at the sight that Horatio presented.

"You look stunning." He whispered as he finally found a voice.

"Thank-you." Grace blushed. Her face becoming even redder as Horatio pulled a single red rose from behind his back.

Horatio, the man who was never without something to say, and was usually so suave when it came to these situations trawled his mind for what to say next, and found his vocabulary had suddenly diminished. Instead, he proffered his arm, hoping that Grace would think he was aiming for the 'strong and silent' approach rather than the 'dumbass, can't think what to say' persona that he now found himself projecting. Whether she figured it out or not Grace simply hooked her delicate arm through his and allowed herself to be guided out of the door.

The pair enjoyed an animated conversation over dinner. They laughed at situations they had found themselves in during the course of their careers, and over the antics of colleagues and criminals alike. They were so deep in conversation that their desserts arrived without them noticing, it was only when Grace nearly put her elbow into her partially melted pudding that they realised that the food had in fact been sitting on the table for quite some time.

At one point during their evening, as they sat back with cups of coffee Grace went quiet, her eyes glazed over with a far-away look.

"You thinking about Sarah?"

"Yeah."

Horatio reached out and took Grace's hands in his, stroking his thumb lightly over the delicate skin on the back of her hand.

"You know, Fate is really screwed up." Grace's face was scrunched into a frown as she spoke.

"Huh?" Her comment caught Horatio off guard. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Well you might have heard that I lost my sister recently." Even in the depths of such sadness Grace could still try and lift the mood with a little sarcasm. "Well I was thinking, Fate really made a terrible decision there, I think we're in agreement with that, right? But in the course of all that happening I met you," she leaned her head to one side speaking in a harsh whisper behind her hand as if sharing a secret, "and just to clarify, that's a very good thing." She winked and sat upright again before continuing. "Good things all mixed up with bad things, so you see my logic that Fate is screwed up." Grace delivered the last phrase in the manner of a lecturer making the summation to a complex lecture.

"I see where you're coming from. I'm just glad that very occasionally it comes through with a triumphant victory." He bowed his head and placed a soft kiss on Grace's knuckles.

Later, as they walked along the seafront, their promenade was accompanied by the steady beat and lively rhythm of Cuban music which drifted out of nearby clubs, bars and restaurants, Horatio slipped his arm around her waist and they fell comfortably into step with each other. As they reached the end of the path they stood for a while, just looking out over the calm waters of the bay, hearing the steady rhythm of the water lapping on the beach nearby, moonlight providing the only illumination. In the distance they could just make out the shape of a cruise liner departing on its voyage, and Horatio thought that there was no-one on that ship that could even come close to feeling the same kind of happiness he was feeling right now. Grace leant in close and rested her head back against his shoulder, letting out a contented sigh as she did so. If you could relive one moment over and over again, Horatio thought, this would be the one he'd choose.

He couldn't really remember how they'd got back to his apartment, he remembered a lively discussion about basketball, both extolling the virtues of their own teams. Horatio, once a dedicated Knicks fan who had gradually swapped his allegiance to the Miami Heat team, and Grace, still a staunch New York Knicks supporter. The pair enjoyed picking fault with the other team, although Horatio had ultimately been forced to concede defeat following Grace's reminder that the last time the two teams had met on the court the Knicks had come out on top. But after that the conversation became a little foggy and all Horatio could remember was the curve of her neck, the way the light made her hair shine and how her cheeks were a little flushed from drinking one glass of wine too many.

"Coffee?" he asked as he flicked on a light switch inside the apartment and tossed his keys onto the table by the door.

"Mmm, yes please." Grace wandered in behind him, and as Horatio headed over into the kitchen area Grace made a beeline for the stereo system and chose a cd from the extensive collection lined up on the shelf above. She closed her eyes for a second and started to sway a little as the first notes of a classic rock ballad drifted out of the speakers.

Horatio busied himself in the kitchen, pulling cups out of a cupboard as the coffee machine gurgled away, making a fresh brew. Within minutes an enticing aroma drifted up from the pot and began to fill the kitchen. He poured the bubbling liquid into the pristine white cups, added a little cream and sugar to Grace's, leaving his own black and headed back out into the lounge. The apartment appeared to be empty, there was no sign of Grace as Horatio walked out of the kitchen, just the music system continuing to push music out into the empty room. Puzzled, he looked around and eventually noticed a delicate movement of the voile curtains that framed the glass door leading out onto the balcony. The light material fluttered as a gentle breeze blew in from the open French doors. He walked over and stood quietly watching her silhouette for a minute. Grace was leaning on the railings at the edge of the balcony, gazing out over the sea.

"Here." He reached around her and placed the cup of steaming hot coffee in her hand.

She lifted it to her lips and took a sip.

"Mmm." She held the cup cradled in her hands for a few minutes as she remained staring out over the beautiful natural vista that lay stretched out into the distance. Finally, a small, almost unnoticeable smile crept onto her face, she leaned down and carefully placed the almost full coffee cup on the table that stood next to her on the balcony and turned to face Horatio.

Her movement brought his attention from the ocean back to the woman in front of him. There was something ever so slightly different than there had been a few minutes before, whether it was the more confident way she held herself, or the determined twinkle in her eyes he wasn't sure, what he was sure of was that she looked stunning. Grace extended her hand towards him cupping her hand around the side of his face as she ran her thumb over the soft skin of his cheek, feeling the light stubble starting to grow as she traced the contours of his jaw line. Her hand moved down his neck and over the crisp white material of his shirt. She slowly closed her fingers, gently grasping a section of the smooth fabric and pulled him a step closer to her. She could feel the light buffeting of his breath against her skin now, and she tilted her face up towards his.

Horatio no longer needed her guidance and ran his hands either side of her face as she tilted her head up towards his own, entwining his fingers in the long, honey-blonde hair that fell from it's elegant knot and tumbled in loose waves down her back. He leaned in, initially allowing his lips to brush softly against hers before kissing her more passionately. They remained locked together for what seemed like forever, close enough to feel the others heart beating. When they finally parted, breathing heavily, blue met green as they looked into each others eyes. It was Grace that broke the gaze first, dropping her line of sight as a contented grin spread over her face. She wove her fingers with Horatio's and pulled him towards the open glass door leading back into his apartment.

Once inside Grace once again pulled him into a firm embrace, before fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, unlike the last time she had attempted this Horatio made no move to resist. Finally having undone the fastenings she pushed the material back over his muscled shoulders and he shrugged it off, allowing the garment to fall to the floor. Horatio hooked his fingers under the straps of Grace's dress and slipped the gown from her shoulders revealing soft flesh; marked by faint lines where the sun had caught her sensitive New Yorker's skin, the milky complexion quickly taking on a more Miami-esque tone determined by the harsh glare of the incessant Florida sun.

He ran his hands over the skin of her shoulders and traced the line of her shoulder blades. She shivered at his gentle touch making her seem vulnerable, which in turn sent a longing through every synapse of his brain. He held her close, feeling the soft skin of her breasts pressed up against his chest and inhaled the delicate scent of jasmine that floated up from her hair. The dress fell a little further, and in the mirror behind her Horatio caught a glimpse of something black on the newly revealed skin. He began to trace the design of the tattoo on the bottom of her back with one finger.

"You've got ink." He whispered.

She blushed.

"Um, yeah."

In the mirror Horatio took a better look at the body art and instantly realised what it was, a small, stylised form of a bird rising from flames.

"Phoenix?"

"Uh-huh. It's just a reminder."

"Of Sarah." He nodded, understanding.

"Partly, but also partly to remind myself that from the ashes we are reborn. I guess I got it to remind myself that I can survive no matter what happens."

"A wise sentiment."

"Should be, you taught me that Horatio."

He pulled his head back to look into her eyes and then leaned forward, once again brushing her lips with his before pressing forward making the kiss more fervent, desperate even. As they parted, both breathing deeply Grace whispered softly in his ear.

"You know, I have another tattoo as well."

"Where?" He pulled back and looked at her as he spoke.

"You're just going to have to find that one yourself." A wicked grin spread over her face.

Horatio chuckled, he was going to enjoy that task. He swept her up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, the material of the dress finally falling all the way to the floor as he picked her up, leaving her clad only in a pair of black panties. He laid her down on the bed and kissed her gently on the lips before moving his mouth down her neck, peppering her skin with kisses before going in search of the illusive tattoo.

_To be continued…_

_-----------------------------------------------------_

_A/N – TenFour – Good Lord, even before the kettle?? That's high praise indeed!! I need my tea-induced caffeine hit before I can function! Oh yes, Grace will definitely be back…(ooh, just had a Terminator moment there "I'll be back…")_

_Clairec12344 – You know, I hadn't thought of that, but now you mention it I can see a bit of Mac + Stella in there. If you thought that was cute, just wait til you see what's to come. Teehee._

_RedHotLover – Aw shucks, now I'm blushing – Thanks for your words of encouragement. I'm intrigued by the police procedures as well as the science + the internet's a wonderful research tool!!_

_**More fluff anyone??**_


	30. Chapter 30

Horatio awoke lying on his front, one arm thrust under the pillow and the other lying down by his side, the smile on his face told him that he'd had a good night, but in the daze of regaining consciousness he couldn't quite remember why. As the memory floated back into his brain the smile widened and he let out a contented sigh and rolled onto his back. He stretched out the arm that had been lying by his side, expecting to feel the warmth of his bedmate, but instead his exploration found only the cool material of bed sheets. Horatio rubbed his eyes and then propped himself up on his elbows. The room was empty, no sign of Grace, could a dream be that realistic? He pushed his feet out of bed and pulled on a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt before padding across the wooden floor, heading towards the door. Just outside the room he found a pile of material carelessly abandoned on the floor, he stooped down and picked it up. As he held the fabric up he recognised the garment as the dress Grace had been wearing the night before, and the smile that had adorned his features when he had woken up returned in full measure.

Horatio wandered through the apartment, trying to locate his illusive bedfellow, and eventually found her standing outside on the balcony. Horatio paused for a moment drinking in the sight of her standing there, leaning against the metal railings at the edge of the balcony. Grace was barefoot, her long, newly tanned legs stretching up, the muscles toned and taut. She was wearing the white shirt that he had discarded the night before, it was clearly too big for her, a fact which only served to make her look incredibly sexy. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon ahead of her, the sun rising up casting everything in a warm glow. Horatio walked forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling his nose in her hair, drinking in her scent, before pulling back the light cotton material of the shirt a little way and placing a kiss on the delicate skin of her shoulder. At first, feeling his touch, she tensed, an unavoidable reflex reaction, but almost as soon as her muscles had contracted with the surprise, they relaxed again and Grace turned around smiling. She wrapped her own arms around his neck and planted a kiss firmly on his lips.

"Hey. I grabbed one of your shirts, hope you don't mind." She said as they parted.

Horatio shrugged before he responded.

"It looks way better on you than it does on me."

"Oh I don't know about that, Horatio, I think I could make a pretty good argument to the contrary on that point." She smirked as his face flushed red. "And I made myself a cup of coffee, there's more in the pot if you want one. The last cup you made went kinda cold." She nodded down to the table beside her, indicating the two full cups of cold coffee that had been abandoned the night before, and Horatio chuckled, his grin getting wider as he remembered the reason for their abandonment of the beverages. Grace whacked him playfully on the arm as she recognised the glazed look as he relived their energetic activities in his mind.

"Hey, what was that for?" Horatio stuck out his bottom lip and turned his eyes up in a woeful puppy dog expression that made her laugh.

"Now where'd you learn how to pull that expression, Lieutenant?" She questioned, still laughing.

"What can I say? I'm a man of many talents." He raised his eyebrows innocently as he spoke.

Grace leaned close to his ear and whispered.

"So I noticed." Her tone was non-committal, but it was clear that she was referring to their antics of the previous night.

They both looked at each other and laughed again, before Horatio once again tightened his hold around her and pulled her into a passionate embrace. It was Grace that pulled away after a few moments, before shooting him a cheeky look, grabbing him by the neckline of his t-shirt and dragging him back into the apartment behind her.

"Now, about those many talents…"

_To be continued…_

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_A/N – Ok, so I know it's a short chapter today (ducks to avoid objects being thrown in my direction), but I promise that I'll make up for it with tomorrow's instalment. This was originally going to be the end but my muse decided she wasn't quite finished yet (she's a pushy little madam and must be obeyed!), so there's one more chapter to come, an epilogue of sorts._

_Quiet-Heart – I share your sentiments, a good romance is an illusive creature – damn it! Is it wrong to be jealous of a fictional character? (shakes fist at Grace for having all the fun)_

_Clairec12344 – I'm joining you in shouting "Yay for fluff!" Am also doing a little dance to go with it – but it's scarily bizarre so I won't go into details._

_RedHotLover – And I'm never tired of hearing it!! ;) hehe. A little heat is most definitely a good thing._

_TenFour – Mwahaha (evil chuckle) I thought I'd let your minds run amock with the possibilities of what could be happening behind the closed doors. Horatio's so straight-laced at work he's bound to get a bit wild in private. Bringing on the fluff as ordered (salutes and runs off to find the last chapter)…_


	31. Chapter 31

_**A/N – this is dedicated to the most important people in the world – you guys, the readers - especially those of you that enjoy a generous dollop of fluffiness!! **_

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_A few months later…_

Horatio cleared his throat in preparation for his forthcoming speech. He'd gone over the words he was about to say at least a hundred times in his head. _Well_, he thought, _a conversation this important needs to be perfectly scripted._ In truth, he acknowledged to himself that if he hadn't got his lines perfectly clear in his head in advance one look at the beautiful woman in front of him and he'd forget everything he was about to say and would end up bumbling like a fool. Not exactly the persona he wanted to portray, especially tonight.

He shifted in his seat, and caught a puzzled look from Grace, clearly wondering what had put him on edge and had made him so fidgety. He took a deep breath, _right then Caine,_ he intoned silently to himself, _here we go, it's now or never_. Horatio slowly reached inside his jacket pocket, his hand brushing against the smooth surface of the tiny box concealed within, but as he was about to withdraw the presentation box from its hiding place a shrill ringing started to come from another pocket.

_Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Not now, that's just not fair._ Every synapse in his brain was screaming indignantly at the horrible timing of the call.

"Um, Horatio?" Grace leaned over the table and laid her hand gently on his arm. "Phone?"

He jumped as he realised that in his silent tirade against whoever was calling him at this very inopportune moment he hadn't actually answered the call. He fumbled with the fabric of his jacket for a moment before managing to extract the offending ringing gadget. He shot one brief, resentful glance at the display before flipping the top of the phone open and raising it to his ear.

"Caine."

"Whoa Horatio, you sound pissed. Not a good time?"

"Let's just say that you have really bad timing Frank."

Horatio heard the Texan snigger slightly at the other end.

"Hell yeah, never was known for my tact. Anyhow, sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but we got a DB down here. I need you and your team on this one." Frank spent a couple of minutes explaining where the scene was and what to expect.

Horatio sighed. "Sure thing Frank, I'll be with you in a few minutes."

He flipped the phone shut with a resounding snap, and continued to look down for a few seconds. When he raised his head Grace was looking at him, an amused look firmly resident on her face.

"I guess that means we're getting dessert to go?"

"Sorry Grace. I gotta take this case." He lowered his eyes again.

"Hey, listen," Grace reached over again and replaced her hand on Horatio's arm, making him look up at her again, and as soon as he did shining green eyes locked with his own shining blue ones and he couldn't look away. "I knew what you did for a living before we started seeing each other. And I've gotten to know how important the job is to you Horatio. I understand, ok?"

"Ok." He smiled at her. "But damn it, tonight was meant to be special, just you and me, and…" His sentence trailed into silence, as he suddenly became very aware of the weight of the box in his pocket.

"And what Horatio?" Grace prompted him to continue, a note of curiosity sparked in her voice.

"Oh, nothing."

She shot him another enquiring look, but let the question drop. Lips pressed tightly together, raised at one side, she tilted her head, looking at him out of the corner of her eyes giving her a cute appearance that made Horatio laugh.

"Listen sweetheart, the scene's not far from here, how about I take a quick look and see how long I'm likely to be tied up with this case. As soon as I've got the team set up with what they need to do I'll drop you home, does that sound ok?"

"Sure."

Horatio quickly sorted out the bill and within minutes they were speeding through the neon-lit streets of Miami, a couple of tin-foil parcels that contained their portions of dessert sat on the dashboard emitting a tempting aroma, a mixture of toffee, fruit and cream. It didn't take long for them to cross the short causeway between Grove Isle and the mainland of Miami, reaching the scene that Tripp had identified in his call in just a few minutes.

Horatio pulled the Hummer into a space in the parking lot at the edge of the Vizcaya Gardens. Looking through the trees he could see the sparkling lights shining from the clubs dotted along the shoreline of South Beach, pushing light into the atmosphere, covering the night sky around the island in a grey haze. Turning his head to look to the south there was nothing, no sparkling lights. There was simply an endless expanse of night, as ocean stretched out ahead, nothing but uninhabited keys between him and Cuba. Horatio quickly slipped his hand inside his jacket and discretely retrieved the small jewellery box that he'd been carrying around with him all evening, and surreptitiously slipped it into the driver's side door pocket of the Hummer, there was no way he intended taking this with him to a crime scene and running the risk of losing it. He was ruefully thinking of the evening he'd had planned. He'd just have to wait a little longer he guessed. He turned to look at Grace, who was currently rummaging around in the Hummer's glove compartment muttering to herself.

"Where did I put it?...Ah here it is."

She pulled out a dog-eared paperback book and settled herself back in the seat. Glancing over at Horatio with a smirk.

"And exactly when did my work vehicle start doubling as a library?" He asked with a grin.

"The last time you went to check on a scene you were gone for like three hours, and all I could find to read was an old forensics journal." She raised her eyebrows. "Now that's not to say that I don't find the intricate details of blood spatter analysis incredibly interesting, but I don't think that even you could drag out your interest in it for three hours, so I decided to stash something a little bit more enjoyable to read for the next time you got called away while we were out."

He laughed.

"Ok, fair point." He paused for a second, "I'm really sorry Grace, believe me when I say his is not how I pictured our evening ending." He leaned over and brushed his lips over hers. In response Grace lifted her hand to cup his cheek, and pulled him into a deeper kiss. "Mmm." Horatio murmured as he pulled away, climbing out of the vehicle. He tossed her the keys to the Hummer.

Grace caught them deftly and then leant forward to pick up one of the foil parcels in front of her.

"Hey, remember one of those is mine." He grinned. "I want to find some left when I get back."

"Then you'd better be quick Lieutenant, because my sweet tooth is telling me 'to hell with etiquette, just eat the puddings'."

Horatio placed his hands firmly on his hips, feet spread shoulder-width apart and fixed his face into a serious expression, although he couldn't hold the look for long and he started to smile as he was half-way through his next sentence.

"There had better not be any food theft going on here tonight."

"Uh-oh, looks like you're going to have a busy night then, investigating a murder and a pudding-napping." She chuckled.

"Well, I don't think there's going to be a huge suspect list for the latter crime." He laughed and watched as she took her first mouthful of her parcel's contents.

"Mmm, this is really good. Shame you won't find out how good the desserts are."

Horatio shot her a cheeky grin. "Lock the doors when I go, ok?"

"Sure." She was touched by his tender concern for her safety.

Horatio turned towards the scene, and then changed his mind, turning back to face the vehicle again. He could see Grace was already completely absorbed in her book. He walked around to the passenger side and knocked lightly on the glass. As Grace looked up he placed his hand on the window, mouthing the words _'I love you'_. She smiled and wound down the window, entwining her fingers with his.

"Love you too."

He leaned down and kissed her again, there was a sweet taste from the fruit syrup that laced her lips and Horatio paused, savouring the moment, before finally pulling away from the embrace and turning towards the line of trees that lay a few metres away, trying desperately to focus his mind on the scene that lay ahead.

Horatio emerged through the trees at the waterfront crime scene to find that the rest of the team was already present and busy gathering evidence. It was Calleigh that first noticed his presence.

"Well look at you all dressed up."

Horatio extended his arms a little and took a bow with a laugh.

It struck Calleigh in that moment how much Horatio had changed since he'd known Grace, how easily laughter came to him. _Not that he was ever particularly grumpy before, _she thought, _but there's just something much more…contented about him now_.

Still indicating his smart attire Calleigh asked, "Out with Grace?"

"Yep. She's currently sitting in the Hummer devouring my dessert. But never mind that, what have we got here?" As he spoke Horatio the last phrase he was already walking over towards the corpse, his familiar professional manner taking over. He knelt down next to the prone form in front of him.

"Victim is male, mid-twenties, gun shot wound to the upper torso. DB's fresh, hasn't gone into rigor yet. Can't see any high velocity blood spatter anywhere, looks like a pretty straight-forward body dump." She paused for a second. "Horatio? Y'know we can probably handle this without you. Why don't you go finish your evening and I'll catch you up to speed in the morning."

Horatio stood, turning to face the young investigator and opened his mouth to begin to protest, but Calleigh raised her index finger and silenced him before he'd even started.

"Do you doubt my ability to investigate a case without you looking over my shoulder?"

Horatio looked hurt. "Cal, you know I don't think that."

"Then go." There was a mischievous edge to her command.

Horatio smiled, realising that she'd managed to back him into a corner with that one phrase, if he stayed now he was questioning the ability of his team. He decided it was easier to agree rather than to argue. "Y'know sometimes I have to wonder who's in charge of this team." He raised an eyebrow before his face fell easily into a smile. "Thanks Calleigh, I owe you one."

"And don't believe I won't collect on it either." She quipped back. "Next dumpster we pull; you're going in buddy."

"Just try and stop me. But seriously, thank-you Calleigh."

Her response was to wave him away with her hand as she turned back to the scene.

As Horatio walked away; Ryan and Eric both descended on Calleigh.

"How…what did you…how?" Ryan couldn't manage to put together a coherent sentence as he looked between Calleigh's smug face and Horatio's retreating back.

"Calleigh, I swear you are the only person I have ever met that can get Horatio to leave a scene." Eric said, the surprise evident on his face.

"_And_ agree to deal with the next dumpster search." She added with a smirk. "Well, we better solve this case or he'll never leave us to deal with a case on our own again."

As Horatio retraced his steps back towards the waiting Hummer, he felt incredibly proud that he had gathered a team around him who he had no doubts would work tirelessly, either with or without his direction, until they found their way to the truth. Then his mind moved to more immediate concerns, such as seeing as how he wasn't needed at the scene after all, could his plans for the evening be saved?

As he approached the vehicle Grace, catching a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye, turned to study him, before turning back to look at something within the Hummer. Where Horatio had expected to see a warm smile, instead there was a surprised and shocked expression. He increased the length of his stride in order to reach her quickly, wanting to know what was wrong. Drawing closer he saw the source of her shock. The little blue box that he had hidden before in the drivers side door pocket now sat open in front of Grace, her face alternating between staring at the delicate white gold trinket nestled in pure white silk and Horatio's rapidly approaching figure.

When he came to a halt outside the vehicle he tapped lightly on the glass, prompting her to unlock the door catches. He pulled open the door that separated them, and placed his hand on her arm.

"Grace…"

His deep voice seemed to pull her out of her confusion.

"Horatio, I...I was just looking for…I…" She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Oh heck, I wasn't looking for anything, I was just being nosey." A guilty smile crept over her face. "I just didn't expect…"

Horatio gently pulled Grace out of the Hummer, taking the box out of her hands, and guided her along for a few steps.

He turned to face her, lifting his hand to bring her face up by placing a finger under her chin. Blue eyes locked with green, and Horatio could see tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Grace," he sighed. "This was not the way I'd pictured doing this. I'd planned to do this while walking along the seafront of Grove Isle with gentle music and the delicate aroma of jasmine on the air. Instead you get a parking lot, the sound of sirens and the occasional whiff of a gun shot victim. You deserve better than this."

Grace gave a laugh at his blunt summation of the scene.

"Horatio…" He raised a hand to stop her, but she waved it aside, pressing on regardless. "Let me speak. I don't care where we are, if I'm with you then anywhere can be paradise." There was a brief pause. "…Although I admit the dead body part of the equation is pretty gross."

Horatio's smile lit up his face.

"In that case…" He sank down onto one knee, still holding Grace's left hand with his right, "Grace Marie Turner, would do you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

She couldn't speak. It felt like her heart was going to burst with happiness, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She'd always imagined that if anyone ever proposed to her she'd say something very witty and appropriate. Now that she was actually faced with the situation however, she found that she was completely unable to say anything at all, and had to make do with a huge grin and a vigorous nod of her head. In response Horatio slipped the white gold engagement ring over her finger, where it sat shining, catching the glinting moonlight as it filtered softly through the atmosphere.

Raising himself from his kneeling position he stood in front of his new fiancée, stretching out his fingers around the side of her head, he wiped his thumbs over her cheeks, clearing away the happy tears that lay damp on her skin before pulling her closer to him and kissing her. Eventually the need for oxygen overrode their desire to be as close to each other as possible and they pulled apart, breathing heavily.

"C'mon, let's get out of here." Horatio said, allowing his arm to slip snugly around Grace's waist, and sighed contentedly as he felt her rest her head on his shoulder.

"Where're we going?"

"Anywhere where there isn't a dead body within 500 metres."

They climbed back into the Hummer, Horatio moving around to the passenger side to open the door and help Grace get in, before moving round to the driver's side and climbing in himself. As he buckled up his seatbelt, Grace spoke.

"Oh, I guess it's a good job I saved you some dessert then."

"You bet it is, because no pudding right now could've been a deal-breaker." He chuckled softly.

A brief beep from Horatio's cell phone interrupted their laughter. Taking out his phone from his jacket pocket he looked at the display, which told him he had one new message from Calleigh. He pushed a button to read it.

'_Did she say yes?'_

Horatio stared at the message, "How on earth did she know…?"

"What?" Grace questioned, intrigued by the look on Horatio's face.

He passed her the phone so she could read the message for herself.

"I swear that woman's more than just a good investigator, she's psychic or something!"

Grace laughed, before pulling her own cell phone out of her purse and keying in a quick message. She extracted Calleigh's cell number from Horatio's call log and hit the send button.

A few hundred metres away Calleigh's phone buzzed and she glanced at the display. One new message from an unknown number, she opened the message.

'_You better believe I said yes. I'm not letting him get away that easily. Thanks for everything Calleigh.'_

Calleigh's face lit up with a contented grin as she snapped her phone shut. Leading Eric to ask her why she was looking so happy.

"Oh, no reason. It's just nice when everything works out how it's meant to, y'know?"

Eric stood looking puzzled, still none the wiser from her vague response, as Calleigh wandered away to continue processing the scene.

_The End – (at least for now)_

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_A/N – And so our tale has drawn to a close, we will leave Horatio and Grace to revel for a while in their happiness and enjoy it while they can before my muse prods at my brain and makes me heap more angst on the poor couple (the plot bunnies are already hard at work, and have nearly finalised a storyline)._

_So until the next time, I bid you adieu. _

_Thank-you for reading, thank-you for reviewing, just generally thank-you!!!_

_If you enjoyed it please leave me a review and let me know – reviews make the plot bunnies work harder and the next saga appear faster!_


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